The terror seeping from the walls is real. To Cole, anyway. He had always been able to feel it, even if he didn't understand that that was what he felt at the time.

The light is bright, too bright, and he tries to hide them, to stop it spilling from any cracks. "No light. We're safe with no light."

It occurs to him that Ben might like a little more explanation. "Won't find us, not here, too thick, too enclosed, no way in." He shuffles closer to Ben, curling his hand around Ben's again. "They can't see me. Even with the red lyrium, I'm never seen if I don't want to be. It's you they'd want. Hurt. No Behemoths though. Won't fit in this part of the Pit. Templars, maybe Horrors, probably not even a knight."

Cole pulls out his knife, the ugly, jagged little thing that never leaves him. It's still killed things more heavily armoured than the Templars.

Through a split in a stone, little more than a thin line, a red light appears. It's the same red of the Behemoth, sickly and dark.