The forest grew increasingly hotter the closer they grew to their destination.
Heavy mist hung high in the air, drifting across the rocky ceiling of the Labyrinth like clouds, obscuring what little light leaked in.
However, the pervading mist stuck closely to the domed ceiling, starving the forest below of all moisture.
As a result there was nothing to diffuse the heat.
Luthera had been forced out of her cave shelter, in order to think straight in the intense heat. But with her surroundings in a perpetual state of twilight, there was no reprieve from the sensation of being watched.
The forest below still thrived, but there was no wind stirring their leafy canopies, the air rather stale.
No rain fell to refill the cracked riverbeds. Instead, all Luthera could see were ravines filled with dry bones – the true victims of the ever-present thirst.