The elevator's descent dragged on far longer than what made any logical sense. Anastasia started counting the seconds, only to eventually stop when the numbers completely lost their meaning.
The air inside the steel box steadily thickened, feeling like water slowly rising from the floorboards. The small overhead light flickered twice, three times, before stabilizing into a much paler glow than before. Without thinking, Anastasia brushed against the inner pocket of her clothes, where a folded piece of paper sat waiting. She was no longer sure if she had brought the letter to read it, or to answer it. Vvrrrr. A low hum vibrated from the walls—not from the elevator's machinery. Down by Rianor's feet, his backpack began to pulse with a strange warmth, vibrating so intensely that the fabric trembled.
"Do you feel that?" Arvid whispered, his aged eyes locked onto the backpack from behind his thick lenses.
