She followed the trail down the left passage. As she traveled, she got the growing sense that these tunnels were not natural. They were too smooth, too precise in their turns. Someone, however long ago, had made these.
As Lucretia continued down the passage, she started to notice faded etchings on the wall. They looked similar to the ones that were on the coffin plaque and were equally illegible. While she walked and stared, she felt her foot press down on something. Instinctively, she jumped back and swung out her arm to stop Montessier from proceeding. There was a harsh ka-chank! sound, and a row of rusted, iron spikes popped out of the ground from holes she had not seen while she was looking at the etchings. Lucretia breathed a sigh of relief. Had she been one second too late, those spikes, rusty as they were, would have skewered her. She berated herself in her mind, telling herself she had to be more alert.