I exit the secret room and return to the vast, dimly lit chamber. I find myself once again surrounded by the timeworn remains of what must have once been a group of pious monks. The eerie atmosphere is palpable, as if their very spirits still linger within these stone walls. But alas, I see no signs of life, only decay and long-forth forgotten secrets.

The stench of decay fills the air, a stark reminder of the passage of time and the futility of our earthly endeavors. This once sacred space has been abandoned to ruin, left to crumble and fade into oblivion. And yet, even in its current state, I cannot help but feel a sense of awe at the history that echoes through these halls.

And so, with a heavy heart and a sigh of resignation, I find myself at a crossroads. Shall I explore these alcoves in search of treasure, or shall I step back through the rusty portcullis and return to the four-way intersection outside this crypt? It seems I have become indecisive in my old age.

Very well then, let us consider our options: