The sound of hacking could be heard, somewhere underground, as the slaves chipped away at the volcanic rock.
The air smelled like dust and rotten eggs, the walls rough, hard, and crumbly in places. It was dark and dangerously hot, with streaks of magma flowing within the cracked walls illuminating the darkness slightly.
It had been five days, and Mr. Valen sat there, having explored most of the volcanic cave, he was out of things with which to occupy himself.
He still had not found the source of that feeling no matter how thoroughly he searched, although he couldn't call what he did a thorough search.
Most of the time, he was stopped by the intense heat, which produced unbearable fumes that his body had to heal from, stopping him from reaching the deeper ends of the cave.
Even now, the feeling still lingered, making his hair stand at its ends, but he chose to ignore it.
