The silence didn't last long.
It was broken by the soft sound of our boots brushing against the stone floor as we started moving again, deeper into the temple's twisting passageways. The air was colder now, heavy with dampness and age. The flames from our torches flickered weakly, barely lighting the path ahead. It was hard to tell where the ceiling ended or if it even existed anymore—everything above us was swallowed by shadow.
The stone walls around us were covered in carvings. Symbols and markings that looked older than any kingdom still standing. I didn't recognize most of them, but they felt familiar in a way I couldn't explain. Some parts of the wall had faded with time, worn down by centuries of stillness. But others... others looked untouched, like they had just been carved yesterday. Sharp, perfect and alive.
And the murals...
I hated looking at them.
