They resumed their journey, sinking into an even narrower tunnel. The air grew even more still, more forgotten. Their steps raised thick, grey dust, like the ash of an ancient world.
It floated slowly, catching the faint glimmer of the oil lamps Julius had ordered them to cover. Only the dimmed night-lights, wrapped in leather pierced with tiny holes, projected flickering streaks of light onto the black stone walls.
Julius advanced in silence, his massive shoulders sometimes brushing against the damp walls. He seemed to navigate this labyrinth by instinct, like a fish in a known current. Dylan followed him, bare feet on the dry, icy floor, his threadbare blanket draped over his shoulders.
The anima gems, nestled against his skin in a fold of the fabric, radiated a dull warmth, a faint but constant pulsing that seemed to chase away the tunnels' deadly cold. His aching muscles responded a little better, the extreme weakness receding before this energy stolen from corpses.
