The massive doors, unsurprisingly, led into yet another stone corridor, lit with dying torches.
Okay, so they like dim lighting...so their eyes have got to be terrible. No wonder they like copying other people's faces. That's how they experience sunlight, maybe?
She almost laughed out loud.
I'm lost in a dungeon full of mimics and I'm wondering about their biology right now. Okay. Let's keep going, me.
It felt like she had been walking for hours through various stone corridors. Her torch cast dancing shadows on the walls, and it seemed to grow taller and press closer with each step.
The dungeon's architecture shifted without warning—smooth passages gave way to rough-hewn tunnels, then opened into chambers that felt too deliberate, too planned.
She'd lost count of how many times she'd paused to sprinkle spices from her dwindling supply, leaving a trail for Mokko's sensitive nose to follow. If he and Lucy were still looking for her. If they'd found a way down this far.
