The air was thick, almost suffocating, as the individual's fingers fell away from the puzzle box they’d been toying with. It had come together in a strange, final configuration with a faint, unsettling click, and now... now, they wished they’d never touched it at all.

The room had taken on a coldness, a sharp edge to the air that bit into her skin, and their breath caught, lingering in their throat like they’d swallowed ice. Shadows crept along the walls, slithering toward them as the light seemed to vanish, slowly devoured by some ancient, unseen force. And then, the darkness spoke.

“You opened the box.” The voice was deep, reverberating with a cruel calmness, one that curled around each word as though savoring it.

Spinning around and stumbling backward as they caught sight of him—tall, regal in his terrible, twisted way. Pinhead. His face was a grid of pale flesh, dissected with precision, each square punctuated by a needle gleaming under some invisible light. His dark robes clung to his form, chains dangling, swaying as though each held the weight of countless souls, and his eyes… they burned with an ancient hunger, fathomless, yet disturbingly composed.

"I came."