"Stay right behind me," Malachi had said, which was very noble of him, but that rule lasted roughly four seconds.
Des stepped through the iron threshold first, holding his torch high. The yellow flame cut through the gloom, showing long streaks of green lichen crawling over slate walls and a stone floor that sloped sharply downward into the earth. The air in here was freezing. It smelled like ancient dust, copper coins, and rotten seaweed, so thick that every breath tasted slightly sour.
"This is hideous," Serena said, pulling her purple cloak tight around her shoulders and wrinkling her nose. "It smells like wet dogs and stagnant pond water. My lungs are going to be permanently stained."
"Give it five minutes," Pearl told her, stepping in right after Des. "Your nose will go numb and then you won't care."
"That is not comforting, Pearl."
"I wasn't trying to comfort you."
