Final Tribute to the Past

A labyrinth of dark and silent corridors that seemed to stretch beneath the earth like the roots of a gigantic tree. The walls were made of ancient stones, covered in moss. The air was thick and stagnant, heavy with the smell of damp earth and dust.

On the ground, fragments of old bones mingled with gravel. Skulls stacked in macabre pyramids, forming arches and columns. Rusty iron chandeliers hung from low vaults, some still adorned with extinguished candles, their wax dripped in long, frozen tears on the floor.

The silence was absolute, only broken by the occasional drip of water seeping from the walls or the distant sound of a rolling stone.

In the silent darkness, a figure slid along a narrow, dark corridor, their footsteps faintly echoing on the stone floor. The light did not pierce this darkness, but the figure seemed to know every corner, every turn. They moved with a strange, almost unsettling confidence, as if this path was etched in their memory.