The first sound you register is the relentless drip... drip... drip of water, echoing like a slow, mocking metronome in the dark. A jolt of pain blooms in your skull as you push yourself up from the damp stone floor, limbs stiff, skin clammy. The air is heavy, thick with rot and something far fouler—something unnatural. A rancid stench slithers into your lungs, acrid and choking, clinging to the back of your throat.

Around you, the cell walls seem to breathe—slick with moisture, veined with creeping shadows that twitch at the edges of your vision. You have no memory of arriving here. No clue where here even is. But the dread in your chest says this place is wrong... deeply wrong.

And then you hear it.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Too heavy to be human. They approach with grim purpose, each step vibrating through the stones, as if the very ground is afraid. You sense something... something... waiting just beyond the cell door.

Watching... smiling.