The Dread…? He thought.
It was difficult to piece together exactly what was being told to him through the note, but it immediately sent a chill down his spine.
Standing in that room, all he could do now was stare at the doors ahead of him: pitch-black steel, holding no discernable features and almost blending into the wall as if it shouldn't even be considered an entrance in the first place.
It was a place nobody should enter; he could sense that. What laid beyond those doors was an evil so dense, an entity so drenched in malevolence, that the air itself was thin by way of the acknowledgement of its existence.
…Can I do this? He questioned.
Doubt flooded his mind, but after a few moments, he squeezed his fist to reel himself back in, dissipating those intrusive thoughts of anxiety.
It doesn't matter if I can or can't. I don't have any choice but to try, he thought.
