The stairs spiraled downward, leading Kael, Morgana, Elarion, and Rowan into a darkness so profound it seemed to swallow the faint glow of Kael's enchanted sword. The walls were damp, and a cold, cloying mist clung to the air, each breath carrying the scent of earth and something older, something that had lain undisturbed for centuries.
The silence was oppressive, broken only by the soft footfalls of the group and the occasional drip of water echoing through the stone corridors. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if an unseen force were pulling them deeper into the earth, into the very bowels of the ancient temple.
