Nayou gasped for breath. The air was thick, pressing against his chest like an iron vise. He stumbled forward, his footsteps echoing through the endless, suffocating darkness of the tunnel. Hours had passed—at least, it felt like hours—but nothing changed. The walls remained slick with moisture, the stench of decay coiling around him like a living thing.
Then, without warning, the temperature shifted.
A searing heat licked at his skin, and flickering flames burst to life, casting grotesque shadows along the tunnel's damp walls. Twisted figures danced in the firelight, their shapes writhing like tormented souls. A suffocating scent filled his lungs—bitter, acrid, and laced with something far worse. Blood? Burned flesh? His stomach churned.
He pushed forward, his legs trembling beneath him. Then he saw it—a light. A pale beacon in the distance. His heart pounded. Hope flared inside him. He broke into a run. Faster. Faster.