The Dragon Lights
Sweat beads on your face as you climb the curving slope to the second story. Wiping it away with a sleeve leaves your face feeling even clammier than before and you stifle a grunt of frustration. Ahead, the corridor plateaus and you slow your steps, creeping until you can see more.
An empty doorway frames the room beyond, dark save for the red hot glow of the lava falling smoothly from above. The stream of molten rock flows through the gaping hole in the floor, unguarded by rails or walls, and into the pool on the floor below. This room is abundant with shadows, dark shapes that won’t be pierced by even the most well-suited eyes. A chandelier hangs lopsided on the ceiling, only a handful of crystals still clinging to the cast iron. It gives no light.
Across the room, a huge door looms, waiting for you.