The golden ivy meekly flickered making Nesrin wish she had brought something else to mark the route. Her breaths were short by now, feet weary from walking down the neverending stairs. She had traveled so long and deep that she wondered if she was beneath the castle.
And yet the staircase continued downward—the passage, however, was gradually turning damp and cold to her surprise.
But then light whispers filled the emptiness, hissing through the walls.
Nesrin slowed down, quieting her steps as the lamp staggered in her hand. The whispers were human, rapid, and almost like incoherent chantings.
Her throat went dry.
It was a woman.
A landing finally appeared after a while, opening into a chamber on the right. The faintest gleam of green seeped out where the golden ivy completely vanished. The old iron door was rotten as rusted as it remained slightly open.
