On the morning of the eleventh day, before dawn had fully broken, Lin Chen woke up. The platform outside the window was covered in a pale gray light. The wind was still weak; only the occasional wisp of air sweeping past the base of the walls stirred tiny specks of dust into spirals across the ground. He dressed and stepped outside, where Mr. Popo was already standing by the door with his back to it, looking toward the edge of the platform.
"Let's go," Mr. Popo said. He offered no further explanation, turning to follow a stone-paved path Lin Chen had not taken before. The paving stones were darker than those on the main platform, with dark green moss growing between their cracks. Their surfaces were also far more worn, as if they had been weathered by more footsteps, wind, and rain.
They passed through a half-open stone doorway. The frame had been carved from solid rock, while the door itself was gone, leaving only slots on either side and grooves in the floor. Beyond it was a downward-sloping passage. The walls along both sides changed from white stone to a darker gray-black material, their surfaces covered in fine patterns like deposits formed after long exposure to some unusual air. The temperature was dropping as well, about four or five degrees lower than on the platform, and coolness seemed to radiate from the walls.
Mr. Popo walked ahead, his steps as steady as ever. After extending for roughly fifty meters, the slope turned right, revealing a bronze door ahead. Its surface was covered in green oxidation stains, with several parallel scratches along its edges. Mr. Popo reached out and pushed it. With a low grinding sound, the bronze door swung inward.
Beyond the door was a small square room. Its