The stone dungeon was cold.
Not the wet-ash cold of the Mistlands. That cold had been the cold of dissolution, the cold of being eaten. This was the cold of stone, the deep mineral cold of places that light and warmth had never reached for a very long time. The air was dry and still. The light was dim, a faint blue-white glow from the walls themselves, the same sourceless luminescence as Xiltra's buildings but much quieter, much less warm.
