As the group pushed deeper into the labyrinth, a haunting silence fell over them. Every corner, every flicker of shadow felt alive, as if the labyrinth itself watched with cold indifference, waiting for the right moment to unleash its horrors. Thick, twisted roots snaked across the stone floor, pulsating with a strange, dark energy that seemed to seep into the very air they breathed.
It felt ancient, something beyond even Zara's magic—a presence that whispered of long-forgotten nightmares.
Pyris adjusted his cloak, feeling the familiar weight of his elemental power coiling within him. He could sense Zara's amusement at the unease around them, while Alera's expression remained determined, Shadowshed trailing beside her like a silent sentinel.
Lyra, though, was the enigma—her eyes constantly darting, a smirk playing on her lips as she studied their surroundings. She looked less like someone wary of danger and more like someone who thrived in it.
