As Falko and Shalana continued moving through the dark, labyrinthine corridors of the dungeon, Falko tried to stay alert, his senses heightened. Every stone seemed damp, every corner dark and shadowed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them.
"Careful, Falko," Shalana muttered, her voice tight as she took a step forward. "These stones…they're slippery. I don't trust this place at all."
He nodded, but as he glanced over at her, he noticed something strange in her gait. "Shalana…are you limping?"
She paused, a little caught off guard by the question. "It's nothing. I twisted my ankle when we were thrown in here. I can still walk, but…" She gritted her teeth. "It's slowing me down, I know."
"Let me take a look at that," he insisted gently.
Shalana gave him a dismissive wave, but he caught the slight wince in her eyes. "I told you, it's fine," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual firmness.
