The damp, winding tunnel reeked of rotting flesh and mold. Stumbling in the darkness, his hand trailed the rough wall. Up ahead he heard the shrill screams and cries of the poor souls being sacrificed. More than once his shoes came into contact with bones from the past victims. Illuminating the tunnel, a faint orange glow shone ahead. He crept forward, crouching lower and sticking closer to the oozing walls.
As he did so, he could hear the whispers of his enemies. He peered quietly around the corner at the two men, his eyes widening at the grotesque sight. The older man had bound a young girl and draped her over a stone slab. It seemed to be an ancient alter, a dead language carved into it.
The girl lay still, face up and unseeing. The younger man, maybe his age, stood apart from the macabre scene. Every few seconds he would look over at the other man and grin wickedly.