You return to destitute room. Paint chips off the walls, and refuse is strewn about.
Day has waned, moonlight creeps through window panes
In the corner of the room sits that stairwell.
That begs the question...
You return to destitute room. Paint chips off the walls, and refuse is strewn about.
Day has waned, moonlight creeps through window panes
In the corner of the room sits that stairwell.
That begs the question...
Traverse Stairwell