Azulus stepped across the temple threshold with her blade still drawn, eyes scanning every ripple in the veined floor and twitch of membranous wall.
The air pulsed with a scent like scorched marrow.
The corridor ahead twisted inward like a throat. Each wall folded and unfolded like lungs under strain, revealing symbols etched with curving hooks and fractured language. Azulus ignored them.
She'd seen too many broken alphabets in too many cursed places to be impressed.
As she walked, the light dimmed into rhythmic flashes. The floor beneath her shimmered with residual heat, squelching under her boots like softened sinew.
She moved deeper. Every step guided her through chambers that grew narrower, then wider, then staggered again in proportions that defied balance.
She passed through arches carved from jointed ribs, under chandeliers of ossified eyes and inverted hearts. Time lost relevance. At last, she emerged into a vast atrium.
