Cole takes Ben's hand and lets himself be helped up. he doesn't need it, but he likes the offer, the feel of the want to help him through ben's skin. He doesn't brush himself off, just rolls his shoulders and looks over to the tables. "I'll be a moment."

Cole vanishes in a flicker of smoke, but he's back again within moments, carrying a bottle of the sap drink. "It might be good later, if someone needs it."

He says needs it, but he means if the effects of the sap would be better than letting them get drunk and unhappy. Alcohol makes the sad sadder. This doesn't, so he likes it.

Falling into step alongside Ben, Cole strolls with him to the exit. He'd rather come along with Ben and spend time with him than stay. The trees aren't going anywhere; he can talk to them at any time.

The step out of the door, and into-

Darkness.

The eyes can adjust, light being provided from cracks and glowing moss and some otherworldly source which is nowhere and everywhere at once. There is old, stained stone, walls that reach up too high and the roof too low, claustrophobic and smothering. Mildew and damp sit heavy in the air, the drip of water steady and haunting, echoing through the labyrinthine caverns.

There's a sarcophagus in the corner. The lid is partly opened and the smell of old death permeates the room.

This place is ancient. This place knows horror and was forgotten, abandoned, unwanted, and the things down here are just as unloved and unwanted as the place itself.

The bottle shatters on the ground, slipping from Cole's numb fingers, sending splintering glass and thick sap everywhere. The sweet scent is sickly as it mixes with the dust and mould, cloying and thick.

"No."

Cole spins on his heel, but the way they came is only another passage, a crack in a wall showing nothing of the Anchor.

He can't breathe. His terror is almost tangible.

"No."