As we moved deeper into the labyrinth, the air grew colder, thicker, and more oppressive. The narrow, winding passageways of the Thieves' Den had been replaced by massive, looming arches that seemed to stretch on forever, their shadows twisting and dancing in the dim light of the runes etched into the walls. The runes pulsed faintly, casting an eerie glow that barely illuminated the stone steps beneath our feet.
I could feel it now—the relic's presence. It was closer, its ancient power thrumming through the air like a distant heartbeat, urging us forward. But it wasn't a welcoming feeling. It was dark, foreboding, as though whatever lay ahead was as dangerous as it was valuable.
