"After all these years, it's still here!" Matthew chuckled, brushing the thick layer of dust from the old cookware. His voice carried a faint warmth, the tone of a man who had just rediscovered a forgotten part of his youth.
The small chamber felt like a remnant of another age. Smooth, carved stone benches lined the wall, their edges rounded by time. A squat stone stove occupied the center, still blackened from fires long gone cold. Wooden shelves, wooden ladles, a dented pot, and a few sealed jars that had somehow survived the years. There were even old bedrolls stacked neatly in a corner, covered in a fine crust of dust but still whole. The air here smelled faintly of moss and old smoke.
