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After plunging into the lava, what opened before him wasn’t molten hell, but a vast tunnel. Leandro walked forward, simply following where his feet carried him. The cave’s coolness was almost pleasant when compared to the choking crater above, thick with sulfur fumes and ash.
Plop. Plop.
Cold droplets fell at measured intervals, each echoing several times in the dark. Even that faint sound went undisturbed by his steps. Not a trace of noise marked his presence, as he suppressed even his breathing. A perfect silence.
The Empire’s Fourth Swordmaster passed beneath a ceiling hung with stalactites. Red-eyed bats glared at him, but he ignored them. They were not worth his blade. No luminous ore lit the stone, yet the deeper he went, the brighter it grew. Threads of unseen wind brushed past, slipping in and out.
There was something ahead, crouching on the ground.
Leandro approached, still...
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