Walksfar Seesmuch steps through the grinding altar stone into a lower passage, and the chapel vanishes behind her. The tunnel is damp, salt-bright, and ribbed with old cut stone, while a thin current of cold air presses onward from the dark.
The Shimmering Figure glides ahead, her outline casting pale silver over puddles and moss. Seralyth follows close behind, cuff sigil still dimmed to a hard, watchful gleam.
The Shimmering Figure
This way, princess. The church will not reach the place ahead of us.
The Gray-Mantled Stranger
If there is a test waiting there, I mean to see it with my own eyes.
The tunnel widens into a salt-worn chamber with a black pool at its center. Ancient carvings ring the walls, half-erased by time and seepage, and the air hums with old magic.
Seralyth
The threshold is real. Whatever meets her here will not be a church-made lie.