"Good question," Elijah said, squatting down for a closer look. "Whatever it is, it's responsible for the dead walking around. It's also keeping us from leaving."
"Wait, what–?" Gael looked over.
The blue-eyed soldier stood up, giving a quiet nod as he looked towards the ruined shop front, "You haven't tried leaving since you came in, have you? Well, each passage is blocked by that black sludge now."
"Seriously?" Gael mumbled, feeling the weight of the situation.
Elijah shrugged, placing his hands on his sides, "Oddly enough, it seems willing to let outsiders inside of Atlantis. It actually parted when we came through, but closed us in after."
The more he learned about the situation, the more arduous it became. It was a web of problems, caving in those that entered Atlantis—he felt trapped.
Elijah sat down against the wall, looking at the orange, coral growth in the courtyard, "Right now, the objective has changed from securing Marinus to just surviving."
