Shadows

Labyrinthine passages stretch in every direction, looping in upon themselves. Stonework lies in varying states of disrepair, cracks lined not with moss or ivy but a viscous, inky substance. Liquid shadows pour in from an unseen source. Escape from such a prison is unlikely.

Shadows take solid shape. Full figures are rare. Hands are their preference. Numerous pitch black appendages of all shapes and sizes, forming in patches like rippling waves. Reaching out from the walls, from the floors, seeking to grasp and touch anything that enter their reach. Devoid of malice, driven solely by curiosity. Curiosity to touch, to probe, aimless in their pursuits.

Speech cannot be produced within the labyrinth. Walls absorb vocalizations and words fail to form. Cries for help would be fruitless, there is nobody to hear them.

Physical sensations experienced within the labyrinth are drawn out as if in a drunken stupor, a combination of numbness and delayed perception. Time misbehaves in these halls, stretched and warped. Denizens waiting, for an alarm that can never ring.