In this room sealed off from the world, Lysithea found nothing but a sturdy ladder in the very center of the floor that reached up to the ceiling. Her grip tightened on her revolver as she edged closer. Craning her neck upward, she was met with the sight of a gaping black hole.
That must have been it—the secret chamber.
Swallowing hard, she tentatively placed one foot on the ladder, her hand reaching out only to recoil in shock. While the edges were caked with dust, the middle of the rungs bore the imprint of footsteps—large, male, and fresh.
Her heart sank as Terran’s face immediately flashed in her mind, but she desperately denied the thought. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, leaving her stranded midway up the ladder. Pausing for a moment, her heart quivering in trepidation, she strained her ears for any sound emanating from the black abyss.
Only a chilling whisper of wind whistled through the confined space. But then there was another sound. A faint scraping.
