The passage widened without warning.
Lysander had been walking for what felt like hours after the third door, the lamp burning low, the darkness pressing in from every side. Then the walls fell away, and he found himself standing at the edge of a wide chamber. The floor was a single slab of polished stone, smooth as ice, stretching into the blackness. The note had warned him about this place.
The fourth trap is a tilting floor. Walk along the left wall. Step lightly. Too much weight at the center, and the slab will tip, dropping you into the darkness below.
He pressed his back against the left wall and stepped onto the slab. It shifted beneath him. A faint, sickening movement. He froze, his heart hammering, and the slab settled.
He moved again. One step. Then another. Each footfall sent a ripple through the stone. He could feel the axis beneath him, invisible and patient, waiting for the wrong step.
Halfway across, he made a mistake.
