They had been there for four days.
Four full days of nothing but stone walls, the looming silence of the tomb's sealed entrance. It felt like the tomb itself was alive—watching, waiting, whispering in voices only the mind could hear.
Sophia sat against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Her head rested on them, blonde hair tangled and dusty. She hadn't spoken much. No one had, really. The chatter had died out sometime on the second day, replaced by long silences and anxious glances. Her eyes flicked every so often to the entrance—still sealed, still pulsing faintly with a magic none of them understood. And still no sign of Liam.
Mariel was pacing again. The only one with energy to burn, though even that was wearing thin. Her boots made soft taps on the stone floor, rhythm out of place with the rest of their stillness. "It's been too long," she muttered. "Too long."
