The whole tomb filled with freezing gusts of wind, and I knew for certain that the wind was heading directly toward Watson Thompson!
I didn't think twice. I grabbed Watson's hand and hurried toward the wall's indentation.
Watson's hand felt freezing cold, like gripping a chunk of ice.
After walking for some time, Watson and I finally reached the indent.
I flicked my finger, lighting a spiritual fire for illumination.
In the weak light, Watson looked somewhat ghostly.
Her face was deathly pale, and her eyes seemed vacant and unfocused.
"Watson?" I called out hesitantly.
Like waking from a trance, Watson looked at me and frowned, asking, "Where are we? Why do I feel so weird..."
"Weird feeling? What exactly are you feeling?" I asked urgently.
But Watson didn't answer. She ignored me and moved forward.
She pressed her palm against the wall and slowly felt around, like she was searching for something.
