Her eyes widened as she took in the obsidian walls, the radiating corruption, and the presence of thousands of demons maintaining their work stations despite the intrusion.
Her grip on her sketchbooks tightened fractionally, not from fear, but from the instinctive need to protect her art from the oppressive atmosphere.
"Jack," she said, her voice steady despite obvious disorientation. "Where am I? This place feels like something's trying to suffocate everything alive inside it."
"The Tartarus Spire, the dungeon I go to train," Jack replied, his tone acknowledging neither apology nor explanation. "I need your artistic skills for something. It requires precision that I can't achieve alone."
Annabelle's eyes moved from Jack to the ancient skeletal form of Loryn, then to S, still casually eating a tangerine, and finally to Faye. She was bouncing slightly on her heels from all the excitement she was experiencing.
