Bringing himself to his feet, he was left with an unequivocal wave of dread that washed over his body as he looked around, finding himself surrounded by trees that bore the faces of men staring down at him. A subtle glow gave off of the blood-red spider lilies that bloomed from the many branches around, giving him a faint, but appreciated light.
The enigmatic swamp seemed to stretch in every direction, existing under the permeance of night, or at least what seemed to be as the ceiling of spider lilies above blocked out any light.
None of it was an illusion or crafted through a twisting of his perception; the air was thin and smelled of flowers and soil, the sensation of the loose soil beneath his boots, squishing, was real.
"...I'm trapped," he muttered under his breath in realization.
