A woman walked down a narrow stone passage. Her cloak dragged faintly along the floor as the sound of her steps echoed in the dim light. At the end of the passage stood an old wooden door, heavy and carved with fading patterns from another age.
She pushed it open and stepped inside.
The place she entered looked nothing like a common inn. It was a secret hideout, hidden beneath its surface.
The walls were lined with candle holders made of black iron, their flames flickering and casting long shadows across the room. Heavy velvet curtains covered the windows, and the air smelled faintly of old wood, smoke, and wine.
The furniture was carved with intricate Victorian designs,chairs with tall backs, a large oak table, and shelves filled with dusty books and strange ornaments. It felt both grand and suffocating, like a forgotten hall from another era.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim glow as she removed her cloak.
A faint voice called from the shadows.
"Mariana, you are here?"
