The corridor through which Noirette and Blanchette were led twisted like a vein in the Resilient Mother's colossal body, its walls lined with flickering braziers that cast elongated shadows across the stone.
The puppet body of the living hat witch moved with unnerving silence, its feet barely brushing the floor, while the hat itself hummed a faint, tuneless melody that echoed softly in the confined space.
Blanchette walked with her usual serene grace, her crimson eyes darting curiously at the occasional rune etched into the walls, glowing with latent power.
Noirette, trailing slightly behind, flexed her fingers absentmindedly, still adjusting to the freedom after the bindings.
The air grew thicker with the scent of aged fabric and arcane preservatives, a musty aroma that hinted at treasures long stored away.
The corridor opened abruptly into a vast chamber that defied the bastion's nomadic constraints.
