The night grows darker.
In the gloomy tent, rows of candles burn themselves brightly, barely holding back the impending darkness.
In the candlelight, waves of blood fog encircle the coffin at the center of the tent, constantly billowing and rising.
Within the blood fog, Colin's figure wavers, appearing ethereal and unreal.
As time passes, soft blood red complex patterns gradually spread across Colin's body, like an arcane array, or like a constellation's path.
An oppressive terror involuntarily seeps out, suppressing the flickering candlelight until it grows faint.
The thick darkness seizes this opportunity to grow and expand with impunity, making the atmosphere in the tent even more ominous and murky.
Suddenly, two spots of light explode into existence, tearing through the darkness.
It's Colin, opening his eyes.
His pupils have transformed into vertically slitted, blood red orbs, radiating an icy glow.
