The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, its walls made of ancient, polished stone that gleamed faintly under the dim torchlight. Every so often, Lando would pass inscriptions etched deep into the walls, bearing tales of valor and sacrifice from ages past. The air was thick with age and whispered stories of yore, as if the very walls were imparting their wisdom and knowledge. The underground city had seen much, and its corridors held those memories.
With Miller's weight pressing heavily against him, Lando's steps became more labored. Each breath became a painful reminder of the urgency of their situation. "Hold on, Miller," he muttered repeatedly under his breath, trying to reassure himself as much as his unconscious friend.
