“I still don’t like it,” Varis grumbled, as we marched along behind the line of halfling scouts. The bright bluish shadows cast by their blackflame lanterns leapt and receded against the vast bulk of stalagmite and column, shapes seeming to flit and leap in the darkness between.
Even after a mile, I found myself darting glances to the left or right, my grip tightening on my ironwood staff. The buzz of Sera’s unease prickling along my arms and the nape of my neck did little to ease my own uncertainties. She held her Power close, her senses sharpened, spread out around us.