One by one, they descended.
The air inside was cold. Damp. The stone walls were close, the tunnel barely wide enough for them to walk shoulder to shoulder. Old carvings lined the walls - faint, worn symbols etched in spirals and angular patterns that hurt to look at for too long.
"Prayers," Sophie murmured, running her fingers over them.
"Or warnings," Zoey replied.
They walked for what felt like hours. The path twisted, sloped downward, sometimes narrowing so tightly they had to move sideways to squeeze through. Water dripped from the ceiling in irregular patterns. Once, they found bones - small, delicate, human. Arranged in a circle. No one said a word.
Eventually, the tunnel opened into a wide chamber.