Nero struggled to his feet, swaying as another wave of dizziness washed over him. His broken arm hung at his side, completely useless. He tested his weight on both legs and winced. His left ankle wasn't broken, but it had been badly twisted in the fall.
Still, he could walk.
He took a step forward, then another. Each movement sent fresh spikes of pain through his broken ribs, but he gritted his teeth and kept going.
The chamber extended in one clear direction, a natural corridor of sorts formed by the way the fungus-covered walls curved. Nero followed it, one hand trailing along the wall for balance, his eyes scanning the blue-lit darkness ahead.
The air down here was cold. Much colder than it had been in the upper chamber. Each breath came out as a visible mist, and Nero could feel the chill seeping into his bones despite the pain that kept most of his attention.
The corridor opened up after perhaps a hundred feet of walking.
And Nero stopped.
