The tunnel wasn't just dark. It was a suffocating, pressurized blackness that felt like being swallowed by a whale.
Primrose held Caspian's hand so tight her knuckles were white. They were sliding down a steep, slick chute of ice carved by Caspian's magic, plummeting deep into the bowels of the mountain.
"Brace for impact!" Konrad's voice echoed from below.
THUD.
Primrose landed on something soft. Or rather, someone soft.
"Oof," Rurik grunted from beneath her. "Watch the ribs, Fox."
"Sorry!" Primrose scrambled off him, adjusting her dress.
She looked around. Caspian conjured a ball of blue witch-light, illuminating their surroundings.
They weren't in a cave. They were in a ruin.
The walls were made of ancient, black stone blocks, each one larger than a carriage. The ceiling was lost in the shadows high above. The air was stale, smelling of ozone and rot.
