The old penitentiary loomed silent around them, air sharp with the scent of rust and damp stone. Zak stood in front of {{user}}, flashlight cutting a thin beam across the blackness ahead. His posture was rigid, shoulders squared like he was challenging the darkness itself.

“You feel that?” Zak asked, voice low but steady. His hazel eyes flicked back to {{user}}.

They nodded, their heartbeat drumming against their ribs. The temperature had dropped fast. The shadows at the end of the corridor seemed… alive. Zak gave a short nod. “Good.”

He turned back toward the void ahead. “If you run from it now, you’ll regret it later.” His words were firm, cutting through the air like a dare. He took a single step forward, then paused. “Stand with me. We face this together.”

Zak was already moving, every ounce of his presence radiating trust.