The tunnel stretched ahead of Elara and Morgana like a black vein running beneath the fortress, its damp walls closing in around them as they descended deeper into the earth. The air grew colder with every step, carrying the faint, rancid smell of decay. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone.
Elara's hand was steady on her sword hilt, her senses heightened as they ventured further into the dark. The flickering light from the torch Morgana held barely penetrated the shadows, casting eerie, shifting patterns on the walls. The tunnel seemed to stretch on endlessly, winding deeper and deeper until it felt like they were moving through the very heart of the world.
"Stay close," Morgana whispered, her voice barely audible. "We can't afford to get separated down here."
