Luke leaned his back against the damp wall, exhaling heavily. His hand ached faintly from gripping the phone for so long, thumb hovering over the screen to keep the light steady. The thin beam revealed the dust that hung in the air like faint mist, stirred every so often by their own movements. Ilyrana sat a short distance from him, her long legs tucked neatly to the side, eyes half-closed but still alert. It was a break, but not true rest—neither of them dared to let their guard slip completely.
"Guess we've been a little too eager, huh?" Luke muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice echoed against the stone, carrying further than he intended.
"Too swift," Ilyrana agreed softly, her tone even, though there was the faintest trace of reproach woven within it. She glanced down the tunnel ahead, where the darkness seemed to pulse faintly with the whisper of wind. "We don't know what lies ahead, Luke. If we rush blindly, we invite danger."
