Work Text:
Lan Xichen has lost sight of the other Lan disciples in the labyrinth of roots that pierce the crumbling walls.
He hasn’t been on many night hunts and he has never before gotten separated from the group. He should be more afraid but something compels him to move further into the dark, down a dusty corridor that becomes a tunnel and eventually just a hole.
Suddenly a gust of air hits his face. Cool and hot all at once, it fills his mouth. He coughs, he tries to spit it out.
His tongue feels thick and he can’t stop laughing.