The descent was violent enough to make the world lose shape.
Trafalgar's body tore through collapsing sand and broken stone while Widow's Whisper held fast between two plated rings, dragging him behind the worm like a hooked shadow. The desert floor had opened only for an instant before sealing over them again, and what little light had followed him down was gone almost at once. Heat disappeared with it. The air turned close, dense, carrying the taste of dust that had not seen the sky in a long time.
He finally ripped himself sideways and planted one armored boot against the wall of the tunnel. The impact jarred through his whole body, but it gave him enough leverage to wrench the dagger free. Widow's Whisper dissolved into a thin shimmer and vanished from his hand before the worm could drag him into the next bend.
Trafalgar landed in a low crouch.
The place around him was immense.
