"Just look and tell me if you see anything that looks like a key. Then I can set everything on fire," Castor suggested instead, growing a bit irritable. She said a lot of things, but none of it was good advice. And since she wasn't going away, the lese she could do was make herself useful. Or maybe Castor was just feeling the constraint of it all wrapping slowly around his neck.
He pressed through the oil-filled tunnel, careful to keep the light high enough and the ground stooped lower, so that the oil was now at their waste. The stench made breathing difficult; he would pull through however.
The key had to be around here somewhere, likely inside something, just as the others had been. The mirror was one of them, the crystal was the other, and the body of that creature thing. Castor paused suddenly and felt the ground grow mushy beneath him, like mud, but softer and slowly his feet were sinking into it. His hands went up to snuff out the flame, and when he was smothered in darkness, he felt his legs slowly slipping through.
