The tunnel behind the Hive Mind's nest offered a different sensation entirely.
The rough, jagged stone walls gradually softened, transitioning into layers of concrete—smooth, cold, with joints between plates so seamless they were almost impossible to feel. The mine rails that had accompanied their every step vanished, replaced by a flat, dark floor. The air grew drier, stinging the nostrils as the temperature plummeted. And at the end of the corridor, something they hadn't encountered in a long time greeted them.
Light.
It wasn't sunlight, nor was it the glow of mana. This light was dim, bluish, and flickered unstable like a dying candle. Yet, for eyes forced to swallow absolute darkness for hours, that glow felt as warm as dawn.
Rianor stepped out of the tunnel's mouth, his breath forming a white mist. "We've arrived."
Before them stretched a magnificent dead city.
