They pushed deeper into the darkness, the flames casting jittery shadows on the walls that danced with every step they took.
Dylan, being the instigator of this night-time expedition, led the way. He moved cautiously, almost counting each step, fingers tight around the torch handle. The flickering light cast a shaky cone ahead of him, revealing a passage that grew narrower the further they went.
The path seemed perfectly straight. But human eyes have their limits, and despite the illusion of linearity, the end of the tunnel remained out of sight. A vanishing line, leading to something… or nothing.
Behind him, Élisa and Maggie's footsteps echoed faintly, dampened by the walls. No more breeze. Just this creeping feeling of moving through something closed-in — like the digestive tract of a long-dead creature.
Then Dylan frowned. Something felt off. He scanned the walls.
"These walls… they're not natural," he muttered, mostly to himself.
