The mouth of Blackthorn Caverns yawned before them like a wound in the earth. The jagged stone teeth of the entrance glistened with damp, and the torches planted by goblin hands sputtered weakly, their flames coughing smoke into the night air.
Xavier paused at the threshold. He inhaled deeply, the stench of rot and smoke filling his lungs. His instincts sharpened—every nerve alive, every sense stretched taut. Aria stood beside him, her silver hair catching the torchlight, her eyes narrowed. Neither spoke. Words would only break the silence that pressed against them like a weight.
"This place smells horrible," Xavier muttered, as the group entered the caverns. The smell was really bad, pungent even, a vile mixture of slime, goblin odour, and dog feces. It was truly revolting. Xavier felt like throwing up, but he kept it under control and made sure there was no emotion on his stoic face.
