The tunnel leading deeper into the Abyssal Spire quickly lost its faint blue glow. The glowing moss on the jagged walls died out completely.
The air turned freezing cold and incredibly damp. The only light came from the flickering, oily torches held by the mercenaries walking up ahead. The heavy flames cast long, dancing shadows across the sharp black rocks.
Leo walked near the back of the group, his shoulders hunched, carrying the massive canvas supply pack. Katherine walked right in front of him, silent and rigid.
The Iron Wolves were getting bored. And when dirty, arrogant men get bored in the dark, they start talking.
"Hey, boss," Vane, the rat-faced rogue, called out from the front. His voice echoed annoyingly down the stone corridor. "How much further until we set up a camp? I'm getting restless."
