Chapter 119 - Dungeon - XXVII
The path was both different and identical to all the other mountains. A trail carved into the altitude that led to a side entrance.
The formation was simple, but effective.
Dórian led the way, as always, with a shield on his back made from one of the crocodile's scales and his left hand holding up a small artifact—a runestone fixed to a silver mount. It glowed with a soft orange light, similar to a lantern, but without a flame. Just enough to guide our steps, but not enough to push back the crushing darkness gathering around us.
Right behind him walked Seraphine, light-footed and sharp-eyed. I followed, focused on the flow of energy around me, and on the constant feeling that something, formless yet present, was watching us.
Aeloria took up the rear, keeping alert to what might come from behind, while Dália closed the formation. She moved slowly, wrapped in a faint golden energy that snaked around her body, as if stitching her together from the inside out with each step.
The trail we advanced through... was not natural.
It was as if some colossal, blind creature had dug that tunnel in violent jerks, clawing at the walls with deformed and ravenous limbs. The path twisted up and down like a spiraling gut, bending at angles that seemed to defy the laws of geology.
At each turn, the rock seemed... different.
The ground was initially orange and rocky, like the other mountains. But as we went deeper, the color began to change. First to a paler orange, then to light gray, then dark gray, until it became completely black. A dull, lifeless black, like the ashes of long-dead coal.
The strangest thing was the sound.
There was none.