Darkness. Complete darkness. You can see, hear, and feel nothing. You don’t even remember what breathing feels like. Thud. You feel your body. Your skin against a cold, damp, and hard stone floor. The frigid air of wherever you are begins to seep through your skin until even your bones begin to shiver. You take one shuddering breath and open your eyes.
Darkness. Then with the brightness of a thousand suns a bright orange flame ignites before you, its warmth fights off the chill in your flesh and bones and you feel life and vitality infuse itself into your body. You take a minute to study the source of the flame. A single pearlescent candle perched atop an intricate bronze candle holder stares back at you with its singular fiery eye.
“Ah. A book?” You think to yourself as you pick up a small pocket sized leather-bound book. A journal perhaps? There are strange writings etched upon the ancient leather but you can’t read them. The twisty yet angular letters don’t seem like any language from Earth at all. You open the book, hoping that perhaps you could understand anything written within.
Success! The writing is in English. A flower of hope blooms in your chest that perhaps this book could lead you out of this cold and dreadful place. This place where even the stone walls that you can barely see through the miasmic darkness seem to have beady yellow eyes that follow your every move, but the more you read, the more the flower of hope withers within.
Dear Candle Holder,
Welcome to the deepest darkest pits of hell.
You, sinner, are being given a glorious chance:
Survive the darkness with your wick still aflame,
Join your Candelabra Heir,
Salvage the keys to Elysium,
And then, perhaps,
you may be given the opportunity to join
the Chandelier.
This won’t be easy, but try to have fun anyway,
Candle Holder.
This is only the beginning
and there are many more horrors to witness.
The candle is your only refuge against darkness,
And you do not want to know of
Darkness.
You feel a wave of dread. A shudder. The sudden fear of what lies beyond the single tunnel that leads out of the eroding stone chamber threatens to drown you. What’s the point? Can you even escape? Why not just wait to die a silent painless death that is ravaged by the horror beyond the dark.
No, you might as well move forward. Perhaps there is a chance of escape. Either way, you have nothing to lose,
The air is thick with an unsettling silence, broken only by the faint echo of your own footsteps. The dim light of the candle flickers in your trembling hand, casting elongated shadows on the cold, stone walls that seem to close in around you. You take a deep breath, summoning your courage to venture into this twisted realm.
As you cautiously step forward, the labyrinth reveals itself as a maze of winding corridors and perplexing intersections. The walls are etched with strange symbols and cryptic markings, as if trying to communicate a hidden message. Every path you take feels like a plunge into the unknown, as though you are descending deeper into the abyss with every turn.
Your heart pounds in your chest as the darkness, like an encroaching beast, threatens to swallow you whole. The feeble glow of your candle pushes back the shadows, creating a small circle of light that becomes your lifeline. You clutch the candle tighter, realizing that its flame is your only defense against the consuming darkness that lies in wait.
As you press on, a sense of foreboding washes over you. You stumble upon macabre sights, evidence of the twisted game that has ensnared you. Walls smeared with blood, grotesque sculptures made of bones, and haunting whispers that seem to emerge from the depths of the labyrinth itself. Each step forward uncovers another layer of the horrors that lie in this sinister place.
Fwoosh. A gust of damp, musty wind slaps your face as you round a corner of the endless labyrinth. It threatens to extinguish the warm fuzz on the wick. You cover the flame as hastily as you can, but you round yet another corner, a hand reaches out and takes hold of your face.
You feel the blackened, wrinkly fingers wrapped around your face, jaws, nose. It’s talon-like nails laced with grim and dirt now digging deeper and deeper into your flesh. Who knows what infection will haunt you later. You struggle to escape. Your hands claw at the withered arm uselessly as a mangled bloody face comes into view. Its nose torn off, an eyeball hanging from its socket muscle and sinew hanging loosely. You kick and worm and writhe in futility. The flame burns brightly, more and more heat blasts outward and the candle shrinks inch by inch, retreating from the heat. And then…cold. Darkness. And blood.
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