The party cautiously entered a new chamber, its oppressive silence broken only by the echo of their hooves. The moment they crossed the threshold, a sickly green haze hung in the air, swirling lazily as if alive. 

Almost immediately, the stench hit them—a foul, acid odor that clung to their nostrils and made their stomachs churn. It was the smell of decay, of rot that had settled into the bones of the dungeon itself.

Cass was the first to notice something was wrong. A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him, and the scholar staggered, his head spinning. "This gas—" he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s... not natural."

Darling, who had been about to make one of his usual quips, inhaled sharply and then coughed violently. His usual confidence had been gone since the abyss, replaced by a look of unease before he leaned against a nearby wall for support. 

"Ugh... that’s nasty" he wheezed. "We can’t stay here.”

Dacite grimaced, her jaw clenched tightly as she forced herself to stay upright. Even her resilience was no match for the gas’s creeping effects. Her vision blurred, the edges of the room swimming in and out of focus.

 "We need to move—now," she commanded, though her voice faltered, heavy with fatigue after previous events.

Flake, ever silent, had pulled up a cloth mask, their eyes narrowing as they surveyed the chamber. They moved slower than usual, their nimble movements weighed down by the toxic air. "There's something here," they murmured, their voice muffled behind the mask. 

"Something’s generating this gas... or feeding off it." They pointed toward the far side of the room, where the green fog seemed to gather in thicker.

Cass, fighting the wave of nausea clawing at his insides, blinked through the haze. His expert mind struggled to focus, to piece together the dungeon’s cruel puzzle. "It’s alchemical, maybe a trap designed to weaken intruders," he muttered. 

“Well, it's working, innit?” Darling, ever so positive, cursed under his breath. 

"We need to find a way out," Dacite growled, scanning the chamber for exits. But through the thickening fog, the walls seemed to close in, the chamber twisting and disappearing. The only visible door was the one they had entered through, and returning that way wasn’t an option. They had to continue forward.

Flake, ever the quick thinker, was already halfway across the chamber, moving cautiously toward the swirling mass of gas in the corner. "There’s something under this," they said, crouching low to inspect the floor. Their hooves traced the outline of a barely visible carving in the stone—a trigger, perhaps, or a seal.

"Can you disarm it?" Darling asked, his voice hoarse as he leaned on his knees, struggling to stay upright.

“I can try” 

As Flake worked, Dacite stood guard, her head pounding as the noxious air pressed down on her. She forced herself to focus, every muscle in her body screaming for rest. "Hurry," she urged, her voice strained. "We won’t last much longer.”

A loud click echoed through the chamber. Flake stood. "Got it," they said, though their voice was faint. The rune beneath their feet shimmered briefly before fading, and the gas above it began to thin, swirling less violently.