Quiet footsteps could faintly be heard in the hallway. The air was damp and dry, gloomy and dark, reminding one of the many caves one could find within the Nations. Its walls were of a dark colored stone, firm but smooth, as they curved up to the ceiling, high enough to be shrouded in shadows. Lining the path were glowing crystals, the soft green of the stones brightening up the area and providing a decoration for the otherwise empty walls. The light did not give off any warmth, neither to heat those suffering from cold or to improve the grim atmosphere that hung in the air itself. It was almost creepy how silent it was, how long the corridors were, how it was seemingly so empty and dead down here. One could almost call it scary. And if one knew what this place was, the things that happened here, they would call it terrifying. Many rumors and folktales existed about the Lake.
The hallway, however, was not dead.
A figure walked through the grim hallways. His posture was perfect and straight up. Hands were tucked into his sleeves and resting behind his back. He walked firmly and steadily yet his footsteps made no noise, silent like the Spirit of Death’s own ones. The glowing crystals cast their dim light upon his dark colored uniform, making the figure appear bleak and ghostly. One could almost compare him to a phantom.
And continuously, it was silent as he made his way through the halls. He moved with certainty, none of the turns he took were taken with hesitance. Each tunnel looked like the previous one, all were blank, empty, and dark, but the man had no concerns and moved with the same steadfast paces. It was a labyrinth, a fast collection of tunnels. They’d stretch on for as far as the eye could reach or would stop at a dead-end. At times, there were side-tunnels, leading to doors, other times there were none. It was impossible to tell where one was. Not that it was a concern to the Commander, who knew these tunnels for they were his. His and no one else’s.