Chapter 8
by 
Shibbar
It's quiet. So quiet that you stifle your own breath.
Go forward
You step cautiously forward. You stop after a few steps, worrying about bumping into something. The room is still just as silent as when you entered it, mayhaps somehow more so.
You take one more step and your hand bumps into something ahead of you. After a quick feel you identify it as a table. What's on the table you're not sure, hesitant to feel around more in fear of knocking something off and making a big racket.