Per aspera ad astra

Gabe stepped into the estate behind Jareth, the oppressive air hitting him like a gut punch. His lip curled at the sulfuric stench, and he shook his head, muttering under his breath as he adjusted the grip on his blade.

Left or right, mate? Gabe echoed with a wry smirk, glancing down the two diverging hallways. Does it matter? They both lead to hell, one way or another. Personally, I say left. Always felt luckier turning that way—though luck’s a cruel mistress, innit?

He cast a sidelong glance at Jareth, his expression somewhere between grim determination and dark amusement. And yeah, demons do have a habit of redecorating. Real interior design enthusiasts, aren’t they? Blood on the walls, bodies for carpets… all very ‘chic from the pit.’

Despite the bravado, Gabe’s gaze flicked over their surroundings, sharp and searching. The shadows seemed to press closer here, heavier, almost alive. His instincts screamed at him to keep moving, to avoid standing still for too long in a place that practically breathed malevolence.

With a nod toward the left-hand corridor, Gabe started forward, his footsteps deliberate but quiet against the warped floorboards. His blade hung low at his side, ready, the soft gleam of its edge a stark contrast to the decay around them. He glanced back briefly at Jareth, raising an eyebrow.

Hope that fancy glyph of yours can keep me in one piece. Would hate to die a second time tonight—it’s exhausting, y’know?

@Jareth