torsdag den 3. februar 2011


Before reading, make sure this track is playing.

    I touch the sigil. It's cold to the touch. My fingers start to tingle. My arm goes numb. The world goes black.

    I'm staring at the stone ceiling of an ancient prison cell. Crumbling wooden bed. Rusty iron bars. Cobblestones stained with something dark. I don't know where the light is coming from.

    I wiggle and squirm, try to force my body back up the well. It's too tight to move my arms. I cry and grasp at the slick walls, sliding further down. The light above me shrinks into the distance and leaves me in darkness.
    Beneath me, something moves.

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