There was no clear path. Only darkness… alive, writhing like a crawling creature, pulsing with a warm heat. The air was suffocating with the scent of mold, laced with the ash of old corpses, scattered here and there.
Irkalos, despite the might of his presence, felt something stuck in his chest. It wasn't fear, but an anxious anticipation… he knew he was about to enter something he couldn't return from.
Beside him, Axel walked with calm, steady steps, showing no hesitation. His gaze was neither on Irkalos, nor on their surroundings...
"How much time is left?" Irkalos asked in a low voice.
Axel didn't answer, but stopped at a wide opening, from whose ceiling black roots dangled, writhing like whips. From within, a faint light seeped.
Then came the laugh...
A laugh that wasn't a laugh, but a demonic wail, coming from the depths of a woman who bore a history of death in her chest.
"Oh, here he is… the Predator."
"Mother of Curses…" Irkalos whispered, his legs resisting movement.
