The echo of their footsteps rang faintly as Mia led the squad deeper into the chamber. Each step felt heavier than the last, the darkness thickening like a living shroud. Yet unlike before, their resolve had hardened. Fear was still there, buried beneath the skin, but now it was tempered by something steadier—trust.
Lisa's soft voice whispered prayers, her blessing shimmering faintly in the air like the last light of dawn. Sylvia walked beside her, bow drawn, arrow ready, her eyes sharp and steady. Zion's spear tip gleamed faintly in the dim red glow seeping from the walls, his stance unshaken. Hiro's sword hung low at his side, his knuckles pale from his grip, but his breathing was calm, measured. Even Vance, though pale, stayed within the formation, his voice silent for once, his steps forced forward by the unspoken tether of camaraderie that bound them together.
