"The night is too quiet," Ava murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "Almost like the calm before a storm." She glanced around, her sharp eyes piercing the darkness. The silence was unnerving, a heavy blanket that smothered everything around her. The fortress felt more like a tomb than a sanctuary, its cold walls pressing in on her, threatening to steal the breath from her lungs. "Something's not right. I can feel it in my bones," she muttered, her hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of her sword.
Each step she took echoed ominously, the sound bouncing back at her from the stone walls, as if the fortress itself was mocking her. "The only sound in this damn place is my own footsteps," she noted bitterly. "Even the shadows seem alive, watching, waiting." She paused, casting a wary glance over her shoulder, half-expecting to see something lurking in the dark. "No. Not alive. Hungry."
