Kairo swept the beam of his flashlight across the cavern walls, slow and deliberate, tracing every jagged edge of stone. The light skimmed over dripping stalactites, over black water that seemed to stretch endlessly.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Nothing off so far," he muttered, though his voice was low, his gaze narrowing as he scanned again.
'But isn't this a little too… quiet?'
In a dungeon, silence wasn't peace. Silence was the hunter before the strike.
What happened with the leeches already proved that—barely a ripple, barely a sound, until they were already latched on. Even the phantoms hadn't rushed them; they had simply pulled, whispered, waiting for them to slip.
Not loud. Not aggressive.
'Quiet means I'm not seeing something I should be seeing.'
His grip tightened around his sword, the obsidian edge catching a dull gleam under the red drone light. Blood stirred faintly around his boots, coiling like restless serpents.
