A Key, A Mural, A Choice

"So that's our next route?"

Lira followed her gaze. The passage was narrow, the edges lined with more runic symbols that pulsed like the dying heartbeat of a slumbering beast. "Looks like it."

Mikhailis swallowed hard, ignoring the flutter of anxiety in his gut. One foot in front of the other, he told himself. No turning back now. The catacombs had already shown they were as unpredictable as they were ancient, but they had to press on. He needed to know what these visions meant, why the city was in such danger, and how the mist tied it all together.

He rubbed at his temples, still feeling the lingering ache from that sudden vision. The memory of that grand hall, the chanting, the robed figure—he felt sure it was more than a random hallucination. Something deep within these ruins connected to him, demanding his attention.