As Lydia led me out of her room, her touch gentle yet firm, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at me from within. Despite her poised exterior, I knew she must be feeling the weight of this evening just as keenly as I was, if not more.
The corridor stretched before us, adorned with ancient tapestries depicting scenes of demon lore. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, adding to the sense of foreboding that hung in the air like a heavy mist.
I stole a glance at Lydia beside me, her profile illuminated by the soft glow of the torchlight. Her features were set in a mask of determination, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt that mirrored my own.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice a whisper in the dimly lit corridor.
I hesitated for a moment, torn between the instinct to reassure her and the desire to cling to my own vulnerability. But then, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes, I relented.
