"I trust the least terrible death," he said with a wry grin.
Without another word, they turned right, descending a staircase formed from spirals of calcified root. With each step, he noticed the grooves resembled vertebrae, ribs twisting around the shaft. The steps were narrow and uneven; he had to grip the rail of living root to keep his balance.
"Is it just me," he panted, "or do these look like spinal columns?"
He gave a hollow laugh. "Wonderful."
A screech echoed above. Wraiths—paler and more ragged than before—clawed themselves free from wall niches and gave chase. Thalatha fired two arrows in rapid succession, each thudding into spectral flesh. Mikhailis lobbed a drone capsule; swarms of firefly-like beetle-ants unfurled an illusionary bridge of light that diverted their pursuers for a precious moment.
