Narratives of the Cold Waste - Part III

Staircases of this shape have been
 known to inspire insanity.

The staircase seemed like it would continue forever. Thelon took steps after another as he walked upwards the stairs of the Dwarven cylinder in the depths of the Underdark. Even though the walk was exhausting it somehow felt as a break.

The expedition had just battled against a group of terrible beings with tentacles growing from their faces. Those creatures had struck Thelon down with some kind of spell like powers. That feeling brought back memories from ten years ago. Memories of adrenaline in his veins, sword in his hand and then... magic hitting him, striking him down and finally... darkness.

A step. And another step. The staircase went on and on. Every step was taking them towards their destination, but Thelon couldn't help shake the feeling, that each of those steps was also taking him away from his personal destination. The elf had thought that the two tracks were the same and he would find what he was searching for at the end of the path. But as they moved forward and each obstacle they faced seemed to tell them the same story, that they were the first ones here, he felt unsure.

Finally they reached the end of the staircase and found a hatch surrounded by ice. Thelon could almost feel the the breeze of the winter air. He was eager to get out of the tunnels and leave his dark thoughts behind. He had a feeling that once outside he'd have a nice moment of rest.