Lan followed behind the red-robed figure in silence, boots echoing softly against the smooth, worn stone.
The passage was carved into the hillside, a corridor of old bones and dark carvings, its walls lit with sconces that held purple flame instead of fire. The air reeked incense and iron—old blood masked by perfume.
Venom walked just behind him, silent but alert, one hand resting near the handle of his weapon.
"This way, please," the red-cloaked man said, his tone ever calm, ever pleasant.
The corridor widened gradually, opening into the main hall of the Ash Tongue base—though "temple" was the more fitting term.
Massive black pillars rose to the vaulted ceiling, each etched with inscriptions in a jagged script. Stone altars lined the walls, littered with melted candles, bones, and small tokens soaked in what could only be dried blood.
