Anasthasia Works Harder
"This place isn't a dungeon... Like his 'archive'—Why are you calling it one?"
"I just love it," Anasthasia said. Her voice echoed deep and prolonged for a minute before it faded away.
Their saunters seemed forever as they took the spiral downstairs. With arrays of lamps cast, an amber glow gave ample lighting; however, it was the echoing thuds, and their calm breathing mused the air.
The silence contributed to the eeriness within the place. But Anasthasia had her concerns way beyond those mentioned above.
"I always find it weird."
Michael queried her concerns, "What is?"
"I can sense the mana rather rich and substantial."
"So, vividly?"
Anasthasia paused with her fingers danced in the air, breathing out, "Yes."
"I must say, Tasha. When you showed the concept of the staff, you negotiated with Jack. The latter power reminds me of you."
She eyed him, releasing a soft hum, and then looked ahead.