You gasp as you pull yourself out of the murky sea of ink. Your body drips with it, making you feel heavier than you are. It feels like you're drowning even after crawling out of the dark puddles. You wipe the excess ink from your face and look around. It's different from what you're used to, that's for sure. You'd been used to the endless void of ink, the heartbeat of the Ink Machine's inner workings, and the nonstop voices swimming in your head- wails of pain and agony, pleas for help and mercy. But now all you can hear is the gentle clanging of pipes in the walls and a few leaky pipes dripping ink onto the floor below.

You look back in front of you and see a man. He's inky like the lost ones, though more human-like with his more muscular build. He kneels down to you and gives a short hum, reaching out and tilting your chin up so you're looking at his masked face.

"Yes...you'll do nicely. You're perfect...my Lord will be pleased with you as his sacrifice. What an honor it is for you to be chosen, my little sheep."