At this depth, the waters grow thick with an otherworldly silence. The last remnants of light from the surface are but a distant memory. The darkness is almost palpable, a living thing that presses in on your skin.
The only sound is the creaking of the ship's hull as it groans under the pressure. The crew is on edge, their nerves stretched taut like the ropes that bind them to the vessel.
And then, there's the smell.
A pungent aroma that defies explanation, like someone left a dumpster full of rotting fish on board.
It's said that at this depth, the sea creatures are not what they seem. They're... different.
