Interlude IV: Slumber

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i.*

Death was breathing quietly in the dark.
The feeling hadn’t left Adwyn since that cursed iron gate came close behind him.  From everywhere and in everything⁠ ⁠—⁠ sight, sound, smell⁠ ⁠—⁠ there was a certain malignity, and it settled into his scales.  He would molt next cycle, he knew; and it wasn’t soon enough.
Adwyn drew a calming breath and spat out spicy venom.  After an inhale the dew came back, and he let it; his soul needed it.
The gate had seen him into a wide entry chamber that turned to a ramp which slinked down to something that already felt somber even when half invisible.