Passing through the bright doorframe, Luna found herself in a multi-floor chamber—smaller than the library, yet still immense in its grandeur.
An old, rugged dungeon stretched out before her, crumbling and decayed, filled with screaming prisoners. Each cell was packed to the brim, the cries of the condemned echoing through the air.
"Huh, the atmosphere of this place changes with each room," Luna thought.
She moved forward, almost without thinking.
Running halfway across the dungeon, she passed cell after cell—prisoners clawing through the bars, screaming in unison:
"FREE US!"
Visibly disturbed, Luna pressed on—until she passed one particular cell.
Unlike the others, it held only a single prisoner. That alone struck her as odd.
From the darkness, a pair of old, feeble arms reached out, gripping the bars. The air around them seemed to muffle and distort.
A raspy, chilling voice escaped the shadows.
"Little lady, please... can you do one thing for me?"
The voice was horrible—croaking and dry, as if it hadn't spoken in centuries.
"Please… can you pull that lever behind you?"
She pointed a trembling finger toward something behind Luna.
Turning slowly, Luna spotted it—a worn, rusted lever, half-sunken into the wall.
The old woman's voice slithered through the air again:
"That lever will release all of us. If you do that, you'll gain some time by distracting the believers."
Luna took a step back, startled by the woman's knowledge.
"Why should I listen to you?" she asked, her voice wary.
"I have a piece of a word. A word that will serve you well."
The old woman let go of the bars. Her left hand disappeared into the shadows, returning with a crumpled piece of paper.
"This. This will help you, surely, my lady."
"All you need to do... is pull the lever."
Still hesitating, Luna glanced back at the door she had entered through. Her frown deepened at the sight.
Then, turning back to the lever, she weighed the woman's plea.
"Oh, come here first, child," the woman added suddenly.
"Take it first. Then pull the lever."
"Know this—if you read it before pulling the lever, there will be nothing."
Luna nodded silently and approached the cell. She took the paper and slipped it into her pocket.
Then she stepped toward the lever, grasped it firmly, and pulled.
A low, grinding noise echoed behind the walls—
GRRRNK... CHRRR-KLUNK!
Like ancient gears stirring after centuries of stillness.
One by one, the cell doors began to rise, clanking as they ascended toward the ceiling.
Without waiting, Luna dashed forward toward the exit.
Just as she reached it, she cast one last glance back at the old woman's cell—
—and froze.
"Why would a well-lit cell be in the darkness?" she thought, a chill running down her spine.
She stopped abruptly, turning her gaze fully toward the cell.
There was nothing there. No sign of the woman. No trace she had ever existed.
Startled, Luna patted her pocket to check the note.
It was still there.
With a deep breath, she turned and headed for the exit—flinging the door wide open, stepping into a claustrophobically narrow corridor, and vanishing into the dark beyond.
…
Cineris and Druven ran ahead, their footsteps echoing through the corridor, while Eyril trailed behind at a calm, deliberate pace.
"For fuck's sake, we're done for if she escapes!" Cineris cried, grabbing her head in frustration.
"Speak for yourself," Druven muttered, glancing at her.
"I SPEAK FOR YOU, IDIOT!"
"I won't be the one in trouble here!"
"Oh really? It's you who kidnapped her—and you who let her escape!" Cineris snapped, jabbing Druven repeatedly in the chest with her finger.
Druven opened his mouth to argue but promptly shut it again, turning his head away. Cineris gave a smug little shrug and chuckled.
"Just as I thought."
"Oh, for fuck's sake! I'm higher in the rankings—far above you! So stop crossing the boundaries!" Druven barked.
"Am I?" Cineris said coolly.
"Yeah, you are—!" Druven clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with regret.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Stay silent… and sit down like a dog."
A vein bulged on Druven's forehead, pulsing with suppressed rage.
…
Far in the back, Eyril followed at a slow, measured pace. Behind his white porcelain mask, he observed the surroundings in silence.