Comfortably sandwiched in the middle of the group, Siri followed the path (broken traces of time); the walls cool to the touch(her mind glad for the steady wail in the wind rather than the screams of the Myst).
Within this place, her body felt light and fluid, the shadows a veil from which she could peer at Truth. No one spoke and she was glad for it, her concentration split between this world and That World (her mind forever fractured, neither here nor there).
Rictor's voice cracked open the quiet and Siri would've reached out for him to urge him to be silent but the stone crumbled and that shattered whatever metaphorical bubble Siri had been resting in. Move. (the words never left her mouth though they were meant to, instead her body curled away from the crumbling rock).