[Author’s note: Again, this is fiction for the Empire LARP campaign run by Profound Decisions. I don’t own the setting or the world, and am writing this as a player with no special knowledge of either]
Always, always cold.
Even when the sun bakes the cobbles of the streets foot-blisteringly warm and the air burns like furnace-heat, the waters of Caricomare keep the chill of corpse-flesh, stealing the breath from living lungs with the shock of immersion.
It’s a different world, down there – silent, dark, cold as the grave – and Nico slips his way through it like a ghost, a living, breathing shadow in a city owned and guarded by the eyeless, skinless dead.