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'This is it,' hissed a cold, drawling voice, deep from within the shadows.
'By George, he's right. This is the entrance to Khalabar,' repeated a rapturous Alan Doodlebridge, gesturing towards the miraculous structure. 'The fabled Khalabar. I never thought I would see the day,' he added to himself, his eyes iridescent with delight. Behind him, an excited whisper was passed around the small crowd of archaeologists gathered. At last, all of their hard work had paid off, years of perusing elusive and valuable information and it all came down to this. The strain showed evidently on the faces of those assembled, each of them bore distinct marks of age and exhaustion. Alan shuffled forwards, closer to the object of discussion. There, in front of him, held by two large granite supports, engraved with extraordinary markings stood a swirling abyss of sapphire mist. The clique was obliviously gazing into the murky depths of a gateway to another world. It was entrancing to watch vague shadows form within themselves and then blend, once more, into the mist. No-one spoke for a long while under its captivating spell neither did anyone move, yet there was a lucid warning within the figures. The walls echoed with a sense of the unknown, it was a sensation that no human creature could define and soon they would cease to exist to attempt. Suddenly, the cave became cold, as cold as ice. A bloodcurdling chill raged through the caverns. Alan turned, his eyes wide with trepidation. He was, however, the only one that noted this perturbing phenomenon. A low rumble accompanied the unwelcome chill, and this time more people noticed the indescribable warning and glanced round enquiringly. Something was wrong, very wrong. The ground quaked, knocking some unsuspecting individuals off of their feet. Dust fell from the ceiling as the soil vibrated more intensely. It was much more than tremors. It was an earthquake. Bottomless fissures ruptured the ground, huge, gaping atrocities heading directly to oblivion. Boulders fell from the cavern roof embedding themselves within the remaining earth. The seismic activity tore open the walls and huge monstrous waves gushed into the subterranean tunnels. Terrified, wide-eyed, people began to jostle hurriedly back down the passages towards the exit. But as an act of daring and a tribute to the unknown Alan Doodlebridge remained rooted to the spot and bellowed after his colleagues, 'Stop. You will never make the exit in time. Follow me.' A few people stopped and considered his offer, but were soon lost to the dust and raging water. Alan, himself, was confined by the plummeting boulders. 'Here goes then,' he muttered to himself in a meagre attempt to appease his nerves. And with those last parting words he lunged into the azure haze, to Khalabar. Exiling himself from the world, forever.