Deep, long, and lightless.
He walked through an endless passageway. The rock walls were cold and rough, and the darkness was thick and unyielding.
His empty hands held no lantern or torch. His eyes could see nothing, but he didn't seem to need sight to guide him. He only had to keep walking forward on instinct.
A cold current of air blew past his ears, coming from the infinite depths. It wasn't strong enough to stir his clothes, yet it made the stone walls tremble faintly. The rock layers quivered like leaves in the wind as the Cold Current arrived.
Something was approaching. The Cold Current was its deep, distant breath; the vibrations were its footsteps.
Rocky scales, a long, segmented body, a ridge with a will of its own—all moved through the utter darkness. A force that made the rock layers tremble was rapidly drawing near.
A structure somewhere between a valve and a pair of pincers opened. Countless indistinct faces clung to it—hill folk, sailors, faces burned by acid, warts, and blister-like growths, all fused and clustered in the gaps between segments of its rocky shell. Tiny arthropod limbs manipulated their flat, pallid smiles.
The tremors sent gravel flying. The cold intensified and surged. Fear gripped his heart and squeezed his blood, and his sharply rising blood pressure brought a dull ache behind his eyes. The extra oxygen woke his brain from its haze, and he realized what was happening.
There was no time to wonder where he was or why he had ended up here. With nowhere to hide, his subconscious acted on instinct, drawing on what he already knew.
Bang!
The table and chairs shifted. The uncapped ink bottle was swept aside, spilling its viscous black liquid across the desk. It seeped into the scattered