They fell together, but not for long.
Jisoo's voice vanished first, swallowed by the darkness. Then Yujin's flicker of movement dropped out of sight. The wind screamed, but Jin kept his eyes open.
He didn't flail. Didn't panic. His body moved with the fall—shoulders loose, spine coiled, legs shifting beneath him like a spring waiting to land. He'd dropped through darkness before.
This was nothing new.
When the ground came, it didn't greet him kindly. But he didn't crash. He rolled, slid across aged stone, and came to a stop in a crouch. The air was stale, metallic. He rose slowly.
The space around him pulsed with quiet.
Stone walls stretched high in either direction, sculpted into jagged, towering ridges—unnaturally smooth, yet ancient. Faded torches hung in iron sconces, unlit. Everything smelled of dust, copper, and old weight. A dead maze long left to rot.
Then the walls lit.
