Chapter 547 - The Godless

The opening had a stone made staircase that led down, without a torch or any source of light, anyone would have trouble seeing where they'd be stepping. The first breath tasted of old lime and the cool of places that never saw the sun. Dust clung to the throat like a thin cloth. The steps were narrow but deep, built for feet that knew how to place weight with care. The walls pressed close enough that the scrape of cloth could have been a hand.