You've been wandering for what feels like hours, the only sound being the faint echo of your own despairing wails. The walls are closing in, and the last shred of hope is slipping through your fingers like sand in an abyssal vortex.
A faint light flickers in the distance, but it's probably just another mirage.
You stumble forward, your legs aching, your heart heavy. The ground beneath you seems to shift and writhe like a living entity, trying to swallow you whole. The air is thick with the stench of desperation and desperation's bitter cousin, hopelessness.
A particularly vicious gust of wind howls past, threatening to rip your sanity apart.
You press on, driven by a morbid curiosity, a glimmer of a chance that maybe, just maybe, there's a way out of this pit of despair.
A nearby rock face bears an ominous message: "Turn back while you still can."
But you don't listen. You're lost in the abyss, and the abyss is lost in you.
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