The very air around you – in the corridor, in the room, in the whole god forsaken labyrinth – is as tense and dense as frozen water. You can barely hear anything besides the rush of blood in your veins and arteries, in your head and ears. The only thing you can feel is the painful beating of your heart in your chest, the rest of your injuries still unhealed after all these weeks – months – be damned. Before you stands the blood red, ominous door that left you alone and empty and willing to lose everything that had ever mattered in this life.
The ivy-like red stares at you, reminding you of the red you never want to see for the rest of your soon to be short life. You thought you were used to it by now. After all those months spent inside this damned maze of monsters and traps and humans with goals unknown until they fell to you and your lost guild. After all the times you spent inside the town hospital or in some supposedly safe room of forest, being patched up and taken care of. The color of blood now makes you want to vomit everything you consumed that day, week… ever.
You stare up at this door, the last thing keeping you from going forth with your final plan of action. It stares back down with this commanding authority that sends an ice cold shiver up and down your spine. "Do you really want this?" is the question it asks with its imposing stance in this tense moment.
And you don't know what to answer, if you have to be honest.
Do you want this? Do you really want this? There's no turning back after that door creaks, groans, and moans open. There's no second guessing, erasing the words on the page as though it was a simple, lapse in judgment mistake. There's nothing but absolute, wholehearted conviction and knowing.
You don't answer the silent, almost begging, question with words. Can't, really.
You push and hear the creaking, groaning, and moaning of the door opening to the room of your demise.
There, everything and everyone will know of your answer… even you, yourself.
The small boom of the door closing signals your escape is now forever futile. You barely feel your feet moving across the blades of blood splattered green. Crushed swords and maces and armor litter the field, though you don't notice. Your eyes are trained on the soulless, heartless creature before you as it sniffs the air, noticing your arrival. The only feature of its face, the gaping wide red, widens even more. That wide, red almost smile sickens you to your very core. You steel yourself, gripping your weapon and shield until your knuckles are alabaster white. You roar a godless scream and are met with one of a near god. And as you and the godless creature rush into battle, you realize that scream is the last sound you will ever make.