It was a massacre site.
The words felt inadequate in Zeph's mind, too clinical, too detached for what lay before them. It wasn't just a massacre site—it was a monument to violence, a cathedral of death, a space where horror had been committed with such thoroughness and brutality that the very air seemed poisoned by it.
The chamber was large, perhaps thirty meters across, with a high vaulted ceiling that disappeared into darkness above their light sources, swallowed by shadows so absolute that Zeph couldn't tell if the ceiling was ten meters up or a hundred. The architecture suggested this had once been something important—possibly a barracks, possibly a gathering hall, possibly something else entirely. Whatever its original purpose, it now served only as a tomb. And it was filled with corpses.
