As Lumina walked down the narrow stairway, it grew increasingly dark. She even felt an unfamiliar fear, as she did not trust her father.
She did not doubt that the man would be more than happy to kill his own children for a greater purpose or his unknown grand ambitions.
For a moment, she stopped in her tracks completely as the darkness became palpable, and she could not see a single thing.
Then a ball of tiny yellow light flashed ahead, formed from the king's palms; it floated up and hung high.
It followed right ahead of Leonidas's steps.
Lumina hesitantly continued. The stairway grew steeper, leading lower and lower.
Rust and dirt covered the walls.
The air felt centuries old and heavy.
Except for the footsteps of the father and daughter, nothing else could be heard. But the echoing reverberations of their steps became hauntingly disturbing with every second.
But to Lumina's slight relief, the disturbing downward spiral of the stairway ended.
