"The dark does not hide, it remembers." , Lullaby fragment, southern ruins, origin unknown
The grinding of stone felt endless, a thunderous groan that shook the marrow of their bones. Each shudder of the serpents' seal reverberated down the hollow stairwell above, as though the ruin itself were exhaling after holding its breath for centuries. Dust rained in pale clouds, curling in the torchlight like ghosts.
Then, with a final lurch, the door split open.
Silence poured out, thick, total. Not the silence of emptiness, but of something listening. The hush pressed against their skin, clung to their ears, filled the space between heartbeats. It was the silence of a predator crouched in the dark, measuring intruders.
Blackness stretched before them. Not the ordinary dark of caves, but a deeper, older shadow, like ink pooled across eternity. It did not recede before the light spilling in from behind them. It drank it.
