"We doing this?" I answered by adjusting my sword's grip, stepping onto the swirling glyph lines. They flared under my boots, illusions hissing up in ephemeral arcs. No monstrous guardians lunged, though. The meltdown apparently wanted to spring its ambush deeper in. Fine by me. Better to sever illusions before they organized.
We marched. The dryness stung at my eyes now, but I blinked through it, refusing to let something as trivial as discomfort break my stride. Overhead, illusions coalesced into floating runic shapes that vanished the instant you focused on them, like ephemeral sentinels scuttling across the ceiling. The entire temple felt alive, each breath an extension of the meltdown's presence.
