At the end of the tunnel was the entrance of a stone stairway, the steps polished by age, and the ancient walls covered by luminescent lichen and drops of water, heavy in the dim light. She thought she’d heard a flutter of wings, and remembered the small bat that had shown her the way.
Soon, she knew she was climbing the height of an old tower, and, after what felt like an hour of climbing, she could see some daylight, from a high window above her. It had rained and water was pouring from a gargoyle higher up, perhaps near the top of the tower. Yet the stairway continued. She’d seen some blue sky in the clouds, a sign that the storm was going away.
In the tunnel she’d walked for a couple of hours, the ground slowly rising, until she found the steps. Through the…
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