The three women walked forward through the underground passage. Their footsteps made soft sounds against the smooth stone floor. The air down here was still and heavy, carrying a strange smell that was difficult to describe. It was not the fresh, clean smell of ice and snow from the surface. Instead, it was old and dusty, like a room that had been closed for many years.
Minerva kept her small flame burning steadily above her palm. The orange light pushed back the darkness around them, creating a circle of visibility that moved with them as they walked. Shadows danced on the walls whenever the flame moved slightly. The old lamps attached to the walls remained dark and covered in dust, silent witnesses to how long this place had been abandoned.
