The passage beyond the guardian chamber was narrower, darker, and colder. The walls were wet, not with water but with something thicker. It clung to the stone like sweat. Lucian touched it once, then wiped his fingers on his jacket. He didn't ask what it was. He didn't want to know.
Cora walked close behind him, her sword still drawn. Margie stayed near the rear, her crossbow up, her eyes scanning the shadows where the constructs had retreated. Drusilla walked in the middle, calm, unhurried, like she was taking a morning stroll through a garden.
The passage opened into a central chamber.
It was round, with a domed ceiling that rose into darkness. Columns lined the walls, carved with scenes of Atlantean kings receiving gifts from creatures that walked on tentacles instead of legs. The floor was smooth, polished, black as glass.
And in the center, floating above a low altar, was the pendant.
