The corridor lay ahead of them, a dark maw that seemed to swallow the light.
Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor, each step ringing with a rhythm that was far too loud for the mournful mood they carried.
The deaths of Stone and the archaeologists appeared to linger in the air like a suffocating fog, their grief dragging them down with every step they took unwillingly.
As they proceeded deeper, the corridor opened up, pulling them in until it led into a hall that was nothing short of breathtaking.
A sea of stone coffins lay before them, arranged in macabre perfection.
Warm orange torchlight from flickering flames skipped across their ornately carved lids, and shadows twisted like bony fingers from the walls.
The air was colder here, with an ancient weight to it that spoke of graves older than empires.
An inscription, cut into the stone above the archway, stopped their hearts:
"Disturb the dead, and silence will be your final gift."
