The stairs are steep and narrow, carved directly from the dark, dense stone of the hill. The air grows cooler as we descend, the scent of damp earth and ancient magic growing stronger with every step. The only light comes from a soft, ethereal glow that seems to emanate from the walls themselves, a pale, blue-white luminescence that casts long, dancing shadows on the rough-hewn stone.
Roland is in the lead, his sword drawn, his body a coiled spring of readiness. Valentine follows, his lute slung over his back, his steps silent and sure. I'm right behind them, my hand on my sword, my senses on high alert. Celeste and Lucas bring up the rear, their presence a comforting weight at my back.
The staircase seems to go on forever, a never-ending spiral into the heart of the hill. But finally, it ends, opening up into a large, circular chamber.
The first thing I notice is the light.
