They are more resilient than they look, and resourceful. The hungry dark with its jagged claws was not their undoing as some had hoped it would be. I wonder; do they feel smug and self-satisfied with their survival? Do they imagine it is any kind of genuine triumph? If so, they will learn; with every step along the path, win or lose, they are drawn deeper into the nightmare... drip... drip... drip... They have allied with the priest and, it seems, will be joining him on his journey across the pond. He teaches them tricks to help them but it will avail them nothing in the end.

Deeper and deeper they go, looking nervously around and behind; almost, but not quite, hearing the scratching and skittering in the dark, almost but not quite seeing twisted, alien bodies that pursue them and stay just outside the range of their failing lanterns. The fear is always with them now, a slight but acrid bitterness in their blood, a bit of the cloying, poisoned darkness that follows them into even the most brightly lit rooms. A dark companion that stands beside them invisible but recognized by the cold claws it draws softly up their spines in even the most sunny and cherished company. The cold shiver of fear that washes over them a reminder of past horrors and a promise or a threat of so much more to come...

The last is so near now... I can sense her there in the dim light far above. I can smell her fear as she teeters on the lip of the abyss. Afraid but unaware of how close the danger really is. She has already entered the labyrinth but does not realize it. Just a few more steps and all will be lost... her dreams will draw her in and lead to her undoing...

mental state: amused