Mercy in the Dark

The descent felt eternal—like slipping through the hourglass of the world.

Selena moved with measured steps, each one carefully placed, as if too hard a footfall might awaken something long asleep. The spiral staircase wrapped downward in an endless coil, cut from stone blacker than pitch, the edges of each stair worn smooth by centuries of passage. Her breath came in steady exhales, each one visible in the chill air. She could feel them—the echoes of others who had walked this path. Warriors. Kings. Ghosts. Failures. Their memories didn't whisper; they pressed against her, a pressure behind the ribs, a cold breath behind her ear. The silence wasn't empty. It was full. It was listening. It remembered every soul that had come before her, every decision made in desperation, every scream swallowed by stone. She walked not just through history but through consequence.