The stone chamber's silence exploded as boots hammered against the floor, dust clouds swirling while Arthur's squad pushed forward.
Their packs held rolled murals, sealed tight, and the archaeologists trailing behind them couldn't contain their excitement about the discovery, even with exhaustion weighing them down.
Arthur walked at the front, steady as always. His fingers traced the edges of an ancient map, its faded ink holding secrets from a world long gone.
Torchlight threw jagged shadows across the walls, reminding him of what they carried.
They'd rested, checked their gear, caught their breath.
Now there was only one direction left.
But when they reached the chamber's end, the world just dropped away.
They stopped at a dead end.
A massive pit opened before them, so deep their torches barely touched the darkness.
Spanning the void was a bridge made of pale stone, cracked and worn by centuries.
Its surface gleamed with brittle dust, like it was barely hanging on.
