Dalamar strides through the hall silently, peering inward to a room that hosts living torchlight. As he approaches the warm colored flickering cast into the stone vacancy, wafts of freezing air from his bow caress his arm as they pull slowly away from the slender arrow's tip and rise into the dense surrounding heat. His steps are considerate of any audience that might hear his slow stalking through the seemingly long-dead citadel -- but the elf isn't taking a chance with the sight of light and the recent encounter with giant serpents in tow.
A deep and vast space stretches upward into the room around the corner, which reveals its light sources as torches of permanent flame. A stocky stone stairway that could support a giant wind and coil upwards, perhaps a hundred feet high. The air bellows tiny wisps and echoes of sounds barely audible to anyone but an attuned elf.
9th of Mist, Year of Priest’s Defiance