After what seemed an eternity, Kasma woke up in a cave with more than a dozen tunnels leading into pitch-black darkness. His fingers were still clasped around his Almawt (bow). The way he was leaning against the cave wall, it seemed he had stopped there to take some rest and fell asleep. Bewildered, he felt his head. There was no bump, scab, or any such injury that would suggest he was hit on the head.
Kasma didn't dwell over it too long. He rose to his feet checking his spatial ring the only thing he cared about. It was still on his finger, untouched. He checked the dingy tunnels with his spiritual sense, they were alike, twisting and turning, with no exit in sight.
What the hell Capalis wanted, the Moriyan wondered. As he scrutinized the passage, hoping to find any clue.
