Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
The sound of the plummetting trickle of water from an unknown source was a faint, lingering sound akin to a whispering shadow. The sound of light, mumbling footsteps was the only life from the dark, crooked place. Beyond the sinister pitch-black darkness was a small light being illuminated from the dim lamp Faustina was holding.
Where was she heading?
The stairs were endless. Spiraling down. There was no jubilant music of the festival anymore. There was only silence.
And in the silence, she reached the rump. Her feet landed onto the cold cobblestone floor. Faustina narrowed her eyes as the light illuminated tiny, filthy creatures—rats. They instantaneously shuffled across the darkness, averting the light.
