The descent into the third floor felt like a slow crawl into oblivion, each step taken in a suffocating embrace of darkness.
The staircase spiraled downward, vanishing into an oppressive gloom that seemed to swallow them whole.
The walls around them, smooth and unyielding, were made of seamless black stone.
Strange, labyrinthine patterns were etched into their surface, shifting subtly and flickering at the edge of their vision, as if the stone itself were alive.
Every footfall sent a strange vibration through the air, an uncanny hum that seemed to emanate from the very architecture, as though the walls themselves harbored some malevolent consciousness, watching, waiting.
When they finally emerged, it was not into a chamber, but into a narrow, unending hallway, an unsettling stretch of featureless stone, save for the identical twisting sigils etched deep into the walls.
