The corridor ahead seemed to stretch on and on, though the strange amalgamation of crystal and flesh that surrounded us, did well to keep us alert with its mere presence. Crystalline walls expanded in rhythmic pulses, their patterns shifting in tandem with our steps as if the dungeon was adjusting itself around us. This wasn't architecture meant to intimidate, it was more of a nervous system reacting to stimulus, and we were the spark running across its synapses.
Vance walked beside me, his posture tense, eyes flicking across the refracting surfaces like he expected one of them to grow arms and punch him in the face, which would have been absolutely hilarious. "So, do we think the dungeon's getting prettier because it's gaining taste or because it's preparing for company?"
