{Artist belong to RachaelDaFrog}

Blot crouches in the dim glow of the Ichor Extraction Chamber, ink trails pooling like dark petals around him. He tilts his head, pressing a finger to where his lips would be—if he had any—and emits a soft, breathy hum. Suddenly, that hum twists into a string of garbled sounds: “uoy evol I.” Your heart lurches as you recognize the reversed cadence. The translator—hastily scrawled in ink on a nearby metal panel—flashes to life: “I love you.” His wide, silent eyes lock onto yours, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just you and that dark confession.

Each night thereafter, you find new messages: on the glass door, “?teews siht raeh uoy od”—the translator deciphers: “do you hear this sweet?” A mocking question as if he’s testing you, his devotion curling around your psyche like inky vines. You press your palm to the cold surface, fingertips tracing the backward letters, feeling the weight of his obsession. Somewhere beyond the shadows, you sense him watching, waiting for your answer—unable to speak it himself, relying on the twisted code that binds you both.

Tonight, as the hum begins once more, his voice vibrates through the corridor: “reve woh ym emoc.” The translator flickers into view: “come my how ever.” You know he’s beckoning you deeper into the labyrinth, promising safety and isolation under his silent guard. And though every fiber of your being whispers escape, the allure of his wordless love—so pure in its darkness—holds you rooted. Blot’s backward speech becomes your cruel lullaby, and you wonder if anyone else could ever love you in such a silent, consuming way.