I was never fond of urban exploration. I mean, I know almost all of Merinos is built on top of Merinos. Layers upon layers of a single city, built upon earlier iterations of iteslf. I know all that. I just don't like to think about it.

The thing is, Lance loved urban exploration.

The Great Seplunker, they called themselves. They would spend entire afternoons looking for one particular entrance, one dug up door that could lead to some ancient corridor, one forgotten cellar filled with water...Sometimes I tagged along, others I would stay up.

That day, I decided I wouldn't follow. Lance had found some old trapdoor under a building in the middle of the block. Apparently, the room bellow wasn't really filled with mud or sediment, and it even led further down to an abandonned tunnel. I suppose it was a neat finding, for sure, but it mostly creeped me out. Lance had shrugged, attached their tool-belt and their rope around their waist, and dove in. I stayed above, said I'd wait for them in the front, reading or writing.

As they weren't coming back, I first started to rationalize things. Maybe the tunnel was longer than it seemed? Maybe they had found another way out, and were just coming back from the top. Or maybe they were in trouble...

It took an entire day for my concern to overcome my confidence in my explorer friend, and another day for it to overcome my fear of the dark. Then, I went looking for them.

The room under the trapdoor was not as dark as I expected; bits of light managed to squeeze through the planks of the ceiling, here and there. I coughed as I reached the ground and disturbed a thick layer of dust. The room wasn't ruined or full of mud, but it certainly was abandonned.

I lit up a candle, and sure enough found footsteps leading away from the trapdoor. I followed them to the tunnel entrance. The opening, barely more than a crack in the wall, had been hidden behind a layer of bricks in the past. I was about to determine Lancehad opened the way themselves, until I noticed that the brickwall had been broken from inside the tunnel.

I don't really know why I pushed further in. I mean, that's not me, is it? I'm supposed to be a coward. I could have run away. By the spirits, I should have run away.

Instead, I stepped through the crack.

The tunnel was darker. the air was damp and stale, a shiver ran down my spine. The floor was hard, but didn't feel like wood anymore. The darkness felt... Thick. Oppressing. Still, I kept going.

After a few dozen steps, I noticed a figure facing me; roughly my size, it was sitting in the hallway. "Lance?" I tried to call out, but it didn't answer. Whoever was there, didn't look like they had noticed me.

As I approached carefully, I became aware of how unnaturally still the figure was. It wasn't breathing, its hair and clothes weren't sivering or moving in the slightest. A statue. Its skin was waxy, reminded me more of some insect's shell than actual skin. 

I leaned over to touch, and the ground crumbled beneath me.

Thankfully, my fall wasn't too hard: I landed on my arm in a pile of rubble, just beneath the tunnel. I fumbled to find my candle and light it up again, to find I was in another room. The space was tight, like the walls had partly been covered with some odd, hard and waxy material to the point that the room's volume felt reduced. However, I was more interested by the fact that it was full of pale, immobile, waxy figures.

I got up and looked around. The statues were in various states of decomposition, like they had either crumbled over time, or like the waxy material they were made of had been recently applied on some corpse. They were in various positions: some were still standing, others were laying on the ground like they had been pushed over. Some were sitting or kneeling.

For a moment, I wondered what this used to be in the past. An ancient sculptor's workshop? Some forgotten clothing shop, or mannequin warehouse? I sat and thought for a bit.

As I rested my head on a wall, I appreciated that my arm didn't hurt anymore. In fact, I did't really feel my arm anymore. The whole skin felt... Smooth? And hard.

I knew I should keep looking for an escape. I could't stay here forever. Still, I felt... Good? Calm. 

Lance wasn't here, but I was sure they were alright. I elected I'd take a short break to recover; then, as soon as I finished writing this, I would be on my way. I noticed one statue had a tool belt and a rope around its waist. Surely I would be able to use it to leave.