"Age is, but, as the abyss of earth where the deeper you mine as you grow older towards the bowels of the terrain, the more diamonds you shall collect."
~
The Under-Ground Dungeons
Kingdom of Tristendyre,
The first Phriday of the Second month,
XXI Year of Regency
Darkling and cold, the hallway was endless with passages branching from every side. Mind racing like a horse galloping down a steep hill, Imogen looked for light.
There were torches of fire suspended to the walls of stone. As she bestowed consideration on how cold it was (to the point where heat would fail to survive), she looked about her to find the torches slowly extinguished, as she had expected, in the night-smitten cell of the perpetual dungeon that held her.
