The door beside the moss-covered window stuck at first, but ground open when she threw her weight into it. The room beyond was an unlit bedroom; the cold ambient light from the garden behind her was just enough to illuminate the objects in it. Books and papers were strewn across the trestle table beneath the window and the rug that covered part of the floor; a boxy little cabinet had fallen facedown over its contents in one corner; the bed was unmade, and there were tapestries still hanging onto the walls by one pin, having been torn down otherwise.

Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, so thick that little clouds of it rose up around Liya's feet as she picked her way inside. There was a mirror set into an arched alcove above a small mantle and an empty fireplace--as she passed it, something caught her eye, and she paused. The mirror reflected a torn-down tapestry on the opposite wall, and uncovered by it were some seams in the wall.

There was a small door cut into the wall. It seemed to be very thin; the top corner of it was splintered and bent in, allowing Liya to see pitch darkness behind it. She sat down in the dust and pressed her shoulder into it, trying to force it open--and it gave way almost immediately, causing her to fall past it with a scream.

She fell down the short, shallow flight of stairs that descended from the door. She laid at the bottom for a moment, groaning, before getting up; the light from the little door dropped away sharply past the stairs into total darkness. She pulled some oblong object out of her bag, which lit in her hand with a bright blue-white light. Tying it to the strap of her bag, she pressed forward into the dark.

The passageway took her over thick, ancient support beams and down rickety boards arranged in rough steps that seemed suspended in nothing. She walked through some kind of shaft over crossbeams that had some kind of plants growing on them; sickly green light was coming from somewhere overhead, and air rushed loudly upwards past her from below.

At some point she came to a ladder braced up underneath a trapdoor. Cautiously, she climbed it, and lifted the door just a crack to peer inside.

It was a large room, and she could hear a dripping noise from somewhere. The only light was coming in from high, extremely dirty windows. She could just make out carpet full of holes and tattered tapestries, and at the end, two large white statues that were also darkened by dirt or soot. At their feet, on a slightly raised dais, she glimpsed shapes lying on the ground.

Something about it made her sink back down again, allowing the door to close above her.

Soon she found herself crawling along a narrow passage above a grate; warm yellow light was coming in from below, and she'd turned her own light off. Distant voices made her look down, and she realized she was above the kitchens--she could see a bank of ceramic stovetops below, and one of the purple-dressed palace servants carrying a basked of vegetables past it, while another tended a steaming pot.