Our rest was short. Not by choice. The air never truly settled. The heat clung to our lungs like dust, and the walls of the mine pulsed ever so faintly—as if something far below had a heartbeat.
Felix was the last to get up, dragging his feet like a man about to be executed.
"You're not dying yet," I told him as I passed, "unless you've figured out how to die quietly."
"Can't you at least pretend this isn't suicide?" he whined.
"Sure. Let's all play pretend." I flashed him a grin. "You're brave, I'm merciful, and this place isn't cursed. Everyone wins."
We made our way down a narrower tunnel, carved more recently. The walls had strange symbols etched into them—faint, incomplete, half-scrubbed off by time or intention.
Mira ran her fingers across one. "These aren't mining marks."
"No," I said. "They're binding glyphs. Partial, unstable. Someone sealed something here."
Julien let out a slow breath. "And someone else unsealed it."
