You're lying down on a stretch of cracked, faded concrete, the yellowed walls towering around you like jagged teeth.
The low hum of distant fluorescent lights fills the air, a sound so constant it almost becomes comforting in this vast, empty level.
The ceiling is a patchwork of moldy panels, some of which hang precariously, and a faint draft stirs the damp smell of old carpet and stale air.
As you stare up, you let yourself breathe in the empty silence, momentarily lulled by the peace in the desolate space.
And then—the lights flicker.
The air shifts, growing colder, heavier, pressing down on you. A dense, consuming darkness begins to seep across the ceiling, blotting out the distant glow of the fluorescents.
Then, two sets of blazing eyes pierce the darkness, glowing with a hunger that feels ancient....
boundless.
They fix on you. You feel your body go cold as the Serpent emerges in full, its endless, formless body writhing with an eerie grace.
It speaks, not in words but in a seething resonance that echoes within your mind: