Midas opened up his eyes again; the first thing he saw in the darkness of the tent was his bandaged arm. Still unable to feel any of his limbs or fingers, he slowly got up, groaning to himself as he moved himself up to sit on the leather.
Looking through the tent, he saw his company crouched together in the tiny, cramped space the left-behind tent granted them; the young girl turned in her sleep as Midas began to move. His head foggy, as he watched the shielding cloth move, trying its best to defend the group from the desert winds. The light that shone through its fibers, emitted by the campfire, was gone; the boy's view narrowed as he remembered Graf acting slightly weird. He wasn't able to tell for sure, but Midas knew the driver had something planned.
Lifting up the surrounding cloth to open its entrance, his worry grew. Blast with raging winds, sharp and cold, Midas quickly turned, still dreamy; he did his best to close up the tent again, hoping none of his acquaintances would be woken up by the desert winds. The outside was still darkened, an uncomfortable early morning for the boy as he stopped to sternly view the extinguished fire. Any trace of Graf was missing, as the bald man only left a faint smell of smoke behind, specs of vibrant orange and red poked out of the dark ashes, some lifted up by the winds.
His upper arm began to ache again, as his left hand clutched tightly onto the wooden handle of the rusty sickle he had spent the night with. Uncertain, the boy turned towards the rift in the sand. His mind raged with theories as to what could be lying underneath; he did his best to shut his curiosity down as he began to wander away from the fire; the wind howled through the walls of the splitting ground, crashing and funnelling through the long, unlit pathway, which awaited the boy. His teeth began to clench as he shivered; the cold wind suppressed any attempt at finding courage, as it blew into his neck. Looking at the dark arches spanning the walls of the pathway, leaning over his head to hold up the stone above, he found his way inside.
Watching his back, the boy realized the little light that still lingered outside was instantly being overtaken by the shadows covering the sandstone walls. His dry breath became more noticeable, as his heartbeat and the whispers of the stream of air lingering in his back were the only things that overtoned it. Uncertain, he took steps forward, unable to muster where he might head. His grip tightening around the sickle's grip, as whatever might roam these dark halls most likely saw much more than he did.
A mere step away from accidentally running against a wall, the boy halted; by pure habit, he lifted up his free right hand, laughing thinly, as he corrected his mistake by hitting the wall with the sharp end of his old tool instead. As he turned, the corners of his mouth raised slightly, and a dim light seemed to stretch out from one of the directions the path split into. Midas directly headed towards the weak glow, barely able to light up the wall facing the tiny speck of light; he found quick comfort in finally being able to somewhat see something again.
It was only after the boy arrived at the tiny nook holding the portable candlelight, which flickered in front of him, that he realized the sudden stop of howling noise. The dark alley spanning in front of him seemed much more ominous, as only the boy seemed to be the only one who dared make sound by breathing and stepping cautiously. Using the light to securely find a way of stashing the sickle under his belt, the boy grasped the circular metal handle of the plate the short candle rested on, its shape droopy as only a tiny fraction of it remained until it was completely used up.
Switching the candlelight with his sickle, he slightly panicked as the minuscule fire began to flicker, unstable as he held it upwards. Able to illuminate what surrounded him, his eyes darted around the place; stark shadows amplified the many tiny details inserted into the sandstone covering the place, and the darkness retreated into the creeks of the big mud slabs spanning the ground around him. Holding up the candle against the wall, Midas awed at the intricacy of the patterns spanning across the walls, seemingly telling an infinite amount of stories from times long before he arrived.
His numb finger lightly brushed against the grainy stone; the back of his hand stung as Midas softly let his fingertip run across the depicted silhouettes. His iris wandering up stylized figures, awing at runes that spanned the ends of the hall, most likely describing what was depicted in the picture he only saw a fraction of, telling their ancient story to the people who now seem to roam the land. The bit of intrigue that sparked inside him granted a slim relief from the situation, yet he was still unable to make the boy forget about his initial task.
The ever-stretching halls didn't seem to stop, the faint light unable to reach the curved roof of the hallway. Midas hitched at the sound of sand grains finding their way in between the bricks that spanned the walkway, raising his upper lip as he flinched at the dim fizzling sound. Weirdly enough, walking the endless path reminded him of his mana practices, surrounding the boy with unknowing darkness, seemingly stretching out into never-reachable distances, shutting off any outside source from his mind.
Letting his fingertips brush over the tiny flask of gold that resided in the pocket of his leather trousers, he tried to reassure himself the way Alma managed to, unable to lose himself in positive thoughts as he flinched back. The mud slabs spanning the ground became more fractured; the boy was one step shy of falling into an endless pit of void that spanned the ground, consuming any light the candle gave off. Dragging himself back, Midas's heart pounded, slowly backing away as he tried his best not to extinguish the candle by his sudden movements.
After a shaky breather, he turned away. Barely able to fight the psychological torment he got trapped inside of, he began to walk again. Graf must've had some sort of light source, possibly from the fire he carried, somehow transporting it into the halls, hopefully being the one responsible for lighting the very same candle the boy carried to the splitting point of the halls, his time running short, as the sky seemed much brighter than before. He couldn't risk anyone following him; the thought of anyone part of his group possibly falling into the same hole he barely avoided made him finally find some footing again.
The boy turned another time, the path heading to the right shortly after he had passed the exposed part of the hallway, opened by the rift in the ground. His view locked into the darkness, which surrounded him again, the light acting as a mental buffer, somewhat shielding him from surprises, even though he was at a disadvantage anyway, forced to spend time equipping his sickle while having to place the torch down in order to free his hand.
Without really noticing it, the boy passed through an opened gate, only really realizing he had entered a room as the walls that gave him a sense of direction disappeared, only the floor remaining underneath him as the void retreated from all of his directions, unable to blind him completely, as he raised the light to see. Flashing his teeth in stress, uncertain where Graf was, he dared to shout.
"Graf, are you here...!?" His young voice echoed through the sandstone, the boy taking a step away, unsure if he had awoken something within the same room; his eyes traveled in all directions as he was unable to see through the darkness spanning in front of him. Instead of being attacked, a muffled shout escaped from the opposite side, forcing him to find his way to the other end of the room. Uncertain of how long it stretched, he held onto the candle, his wrist slightly trembling as the boy wanted to grasp the handle of his sickle right away.
Eventually finding himself arriving at the other end of the room, his eyes scanned the ground, finally locking onto a human-looking shape, covered by endless layers of white silk, its hair thin strands glistening in the candle's light, as the boy placed it on the floor. His eyes viewing the dark surrounding it with more caution as he slowly cut an opening into the cocoon. Grafs's eyes immediately locked onto his, as his hand reached to get out of it.
"You idiot…! Why did you come here alone? Graf hissed alarmed, unthankful for Midas' saving act.
"Above!" Graf shouted in a shrill tone.