CHAPTER 47

The path leading into the cave of bones was cold, and crowed with a nauseating air that reminded Ada of decomposing animals, beaten by a drizzling rain. To use emptiness to describe the place would be an exaggeration of what truly crept on the walls. No noise could be heard and nobody guarded the place either. Every corner blended obediently with the darkness which drove away the lights of the afternoon, and portrayed a barrenness that gloat like a toothless beast.