Chapter 114 – Dungeon – XXII
The group walked along the uneven expanse of the cave, their bodies still aching and their souls heavy from the brutal battle they had faced. Through short exchanges and silent glances, they tended to their wounds as best they could.
Dórian improvised splints and bandages using strips of his own torn clothing. My expression was grim as I manipulated small electric sparks in my hands to cauterize the deeper cuts. Dália, exhausted, remained unconscious in my arms. Aeloria and Seraphine stayed close together, sharing quiet words of support, as only siblings can.
After the necessary moment of recovery, we explored the cave.
It was a dark, damp place, with black walls glistening under the glow of the orbs the group used for light. After long, tense minutes, they found a narrow path winding through the rocks.
"There!" Aeloria pointed, his voice echoing through the chamber.
Still wary, the group followed the trail, slowly climbing toward the summit of the fifth mountain. When they finally reached the cave's exit, they were met with a surprise.
The ground beneath their feet was frozen, the biting cold of altitude making their teeth chatter uncontrollably. Harsh, frigid winds blew nonstop, and before them stretched a metallic floor, like solid mercury.
For a brief moment, no one moved.
The memories of the second mountain hit them full force. The copies emerging from reflections, the terror of facing distorted versions of themselves...
'It can't be again,' Seraphine thought, clenching her hand tightly around her spear.
"Stay alert. Anything could happen now," Dórian warned, his deep voice steady, eyes locked on every suspicious ripple in the ground.