• Shadows lurked in the corners, retreating as he swung the torch to and fro. The solid black stone dripped with ancient slime.
    Panic rose to his throat. Looking around wildly, he started to walk, whispers snatching at his ears. The voices grew louder. He started to jog, then run. Before he knew it, His feet pounded on the black path as he wildly raced through the catacombs, his head throbbing from the voice shouting.
    Silence.
    He stopped, panting. Leaning against a slimy wall, he closed his eyes.
    Images flooded his mind. A great beast, so powerful. A burning hatred. Desperate revenge.
    He opened his eyes.
    He cried out in shock. Standing before him, was the very being who had condemned him. Fear, wild, primitive, instinctual fear, drove through him. He threw the torch as hard as he could, the flames grabbing at the air. He ran.
    An explosion shattered through the caverns. As the shock wave hit him, the voices came back. But, instead of mindless rambling, chanting filled his eardrums, to the beat of his feet. It frightened him. The chanting grew louder. It surged through his mind, consuming him, possesing him. The voices became nearly audible. Pain, red-hot, burning, agonizing pain, blasted through him. He fell to the ground, his head landing on the cold ground with a sickening crack.
    Darkness.
    Silence.