Daemon leapt from the stone ledge, landing with a heavy thud at the base of the chasm. Dust and damp air hit his face as he stood upright, staring across the forgotten temple.
The blood river coiled lazily through the chamber, its surface glistening under faint torchlight — the same river that ran beyond the cliff, outside this cursed place.
"So this is it," Daemon muttered, eyes sweeping over the structure.
"Must've taken a magician, or a lunatic, to carve this pit into the world."
The stonework was ancient, rough but deliberate — the walls and ceiling stitched together with bones and blackened iron. The deeper he looked, the more unnatural it all felt.
But the moment of quiet didn't last.
A faint sound echoed through the dark.
Clack. Clack.
Like dry bones rattling against stone.
Daemon's expression flattened.
Of course. A dungeon wouldn't let him take its prize so easily.
