Just as falling into that well, which seemed never to end, the heavy darkness weighed more than could be estimated, fell upon us and chilled the air. A silent silence that was almost audible, save for the soft scuffling of our feet on the old stone stairs going down.
Silvermane took point; her fur was tinged with the faint, ghostly sheen of the crystals of light we were all carrying. Ember followed hard on her heels, her claws sparkling tiny fires on the floor now and then to dance flickering shadows across the walls. I brought up the rear, my weapon ready, every sense shrieking at me that terrors waited just beyond the edge of my sight.
"This place…," Silvermane whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's older than corruption. The stone, the carvings-this is something very, very old, that time hasn't managed to change until today.
