He found himself in a room bathed in an unsettling crimson light. The walls seemed to ooze a viscous, blood-like substance, yet the air, incongruously, carried a cloying, diabolically sweet fragrance. He moved forward, his footsteps echoing eerily in the confined space. A chilling realization dawned upon him: there was no door, no visible exit. He was trapped. A single, terrifying question echoed in his mind: how had he entered?

As if conjured from his fear, grotesque shapes began to manifest on the walls. They were hands – decaying, half-rotted hands, reaching, grasping, their skeletal fingers twitching with a macabre hunger. They stretched towards him, their touch promising not life, but a chilling, agonizing demise. One such appendage snaked around his throat, its grip tightening, cutting off his breath. Terror lent him a desperate strength. He fumbled for the small pocket knife he always carried and, with a surge of adrenaline, slashed at the constricting hand. The severed limb fell to the floor with a sickening thud, its putrid flesh exposed.

He stumbled back, his heart hammering against his ribs, and bolted in the opposite direction. His eyes, wide with terror, scanned the room, searching for any escape. A small, rectangular vent caught his attention. Without hesitation, he threw himself towards it, squeezing his body into the narrow opening.

He crawled through the claustrophobic tunnel, the darkness pressing in on him, the silence broken only by the frantic rasp of his breath. Then, a sound reached his ears, a faint, heart-wrenching cry. It was Luciana’s voice, laced with terror and despair. Driven by a desperate hope, he followed the sound, the tunnel twisting and turning until it finally opened into another chamber, even darker and more menacing than the last.