It was a narrow, cold, damp, moss covered stone beneath their feet and the stairway let off a gentle light. The air was filled with Earth, and memory. Serakha led, her steps careful. Silent and watching too, the Onyx Wolf walked just behind her.
Behind him came Lucian, holding his sword and having its blade lit up by the soft moss light. Watching their backs, Arden was the rear. It provided a sound that reached their ears as they moved deeper into the earth, but behind them the hum of the Hollow Grove was replaced by the low thrum, as if the roots themselves had a heartbeat.
The stairway wound down and went down, carving a curve through the roots of the silver tree. The stone changed all the more the further they went. No longer was it rough and natural. The walls smoothed out. They were carved with spirals, eyes, leaves twisted in circles. They did, but none of them knew what they meant.
Very old.
