OOC: Let's get back in the swing of things
mentions: [@supamusu][@Moonberry][@JonTheArchivist]

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The sorrowful mask trembled under Evie’s hand, and for an instant it was cold and slick as if rain clung to its surface. Then it unraveled, dissolving into pale threads that drifted away into the air. One after another the other, faces unraveled as well, leaving the stairway bare.

From below came a breath of thick mist, rolling upward in heavy waves. It carried a bitter tang, sharp on the nose and tongue, and it lingered with weight. The appearance of the mist likely tickled at the back of some of their minds, but of what?

The stairs shifted as the ruin answered the selection of the mask. Stones groaned, slabs grinding against one another until the passage stretched downward into darkness. Roots tore back into the earth, leaving the path clear as though it had been waiting for them.

The chamber that opened below was broad and low, filled ankle deep with still water. The surface gleamed dull and gray, disturbed only by ripples that spread from the base of leaning pillars. Every pillar was carved with human faces locked in grief, tears spilling forever into the pool. The steady drip echoed in the hush like the beat of a dirge. The mist clung thick in this place, drifting low to the water until it seemed to soak into the surface.

At the far side a figure rose from the haze. He was no half ruined wretch like the one they had seen above. His back was straight, his eyes shone with dreadful clarity, and his movements carried calm control. The mist clung to him like a shroud, feeding vigor into his flesh, sharpening his voice until it filled the chamber.

[color=00a651][b]“You chose sorrow,”[/b][/color] he said, each word sending ripples across the water. [b][color=00a651]“Now sorrow will claim you.”[/color][/b]

The pool shifted at his command. What had seemed shallow water thickened around their boots, pulling at their steps. Every motion dragged as though regret itself had weight. Around them the carved faces seemed to stir. Reflections bent and twisted in the water, each showing failures and griefs that were not wholly their own, whispering them back in broken voices.

The mage stood steady at the center of it.

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