The light of the wyrm's tomb faded into nothingness, and save for the small ball of light Jocasta had conjured, the darkness was complete. It crept behind them and gave way before their feet just enough to cause a feeling of claustrophobia. The air was stale and old, and the small connection to the outside world from the chamber behind them was small comfort and too minuscule for any sort of change in the air. It was hard to gauge if any air was moving at all, actually. Beren knew that was a good indication of direction in the underworld, at least in the shallows. 

Muragrim had checked the fissure in the path and had given it the all-clear, but they decided not to take that as a trail of yet. Otar trusted the 'Lowways' the dwarves had dug out millennia ago, even though their integrity had been breached. Otar was not only the elder, but a priest. He knew, even with the collapse of the system, that the dwarven pantheon watched over it from both above and below. Beren had never been further than a mile below the surface, but he knew of the pilgrimages dwarves still took into the heart of the world. 

The group passed by numerous other rends and tears in the walls, and at one point the well crafted floor had grown grooved as water ran from the right to the left across their path. Every now and then they would find a fallen dwarf, but more common were the skeletons of gundarogs from skirmishes amongst themselves, and occasionally they would stumble upon human-like corpses belonging to dorcha. Once, we heard something living amongst rubble. The light never caught it, but it gave a disturbing 'hreeeeeeor' sound as it scrambled into a hole in the wall, what Beren imagined as a tail being the only part they could see slipping into the shadows. 

Jocasta stuck close to Beren, who stood protectively beside her. The dwarves marched in a rough formation, shields always in the direction of the walls and eyes always open to the dangers. Eventually, the groups march was halted by an unfortunate but inevitable dead end. Rock and broken pillars had fallen and blocked the way as sure as any iron gate, but whatever had caused it, it seemed natural. They discovered no bodies at the scene. 

"We might need to double back," Beren suggested, hands on his hips. The dwarves muttered to themselves, Gurin making the suggestion they could potentially dig out. Beren was glad no other humans were here, lest someone might suggest it was easy for Gunir to say when he wouldn't help with his shattered arm, but everyone present knew they would have to tie him down to keep him from helping. All dwarves were purpose built for labor, but a dwarf soldier had a sense of duty that put the andredian kingsguard to shame. 

"Look here," Jocasta said, and as all of the males turned around, they noticed she was gone. Her head popped out of a small fissure, beaming brightly and waving them to follow. For some reason, the sudden appearance of her face was a memory Beren would never forget. He truly did admire this girl. The warrior monk followed suit, and the dwarves filed in behind them. Beren slipped into the small crevasse, and once through he found himself in a large, elongated chamber. The breathe was taken from him as he realized Jocasta no longer held her magical light. The walls were tinged with blue lights, giving the tunnel a look of serenity. Upon closer inspection, the lights moved gently amongst the rockface. 

"They're worms." Beren said, scratching his chin. 

"Good find, lass." Radsvir said. 

"Haven't seen lightgrubs in years." Buri marveled.