The chamber's silence stretched like a living thing, coiling tighter with every breath they took. The faint glow from the braziers gave off no warmth, their bluish flames flickering in unnatural rhythm. Every step the squad made echoed back too loudly, as though the walls themselves were amplifying their presence.
At the far end of the chamber stood another door. It was narrower than the last, framed with black stone polished to a mirror's sheen. No carvings, no locks, no handles. Just an invitation—if it could be called that.
Mia's gaze lingered on it, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Her instincts twisted sharply, a knot tightening in her chest. This isn't right.
"This feels different," she muttered.
Zion tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Another trap?"
"Could be," Mia answered, her voice low. "Or worse. Maybe a maze. A design meant to keep us circling endlessly, bleeding our strength until there's nothing left."
