Deep within one of the rooms with the recently repaired functioning training grounds was a custom room. Deep within the lowest levels underground a single stairwell led to this place. Dull lights barely illuminating the hallway leading to a single old wooden door. The lights flickering with each step as it seems to almost warn against going towards the door. Whispers seem to be distant in the shadows and gone abruptly in the light. Out of earshot but still close enough to notice...it wasn't one or two in the distance. It was dozens of whispering voices stacking onto each other. So many voices speaking over one another it was just distant noise with no words that could be picked out. As one would approach the door however the lights would flicker and dim further. The final light shifting to a red color over the door itself. The whispers as anyone got closer to the door spreading now in unison until the person who stood before the very peeling red door itself would only hear one voice.
"He who bathes the land in blood awaits in the shadows."
Then abruptly it was silent. Nothing stirred aside from whoever had been in the hall. It was unclear if there were just hidden speakers....or if the shadows themselves said such a phrase. The phrase itself filled with love and admiration. It was as if it were someone lost so deeply in a first love. Beyond affection...that voice sounded like obsession. As if the shadows true mate sat just there beyond them. The door itself was old and weathered. The red paint peeled ever so slowly. As if something was rotting it away. The doorknob was a face writhed in agony. Everything up until this point suggested to flee to the normal mind. To weed out those who could not handle what came next. The terror on the other side of the door. If someone opened it the handle would be hot. Not unbearably so but enough to surprise someone. Then the gateway had been unsealed. A world so similar and so strikingly different awaited them.
On the other side of the door the air was humid. An almost wet and warm feeling hung in the air. There was plenty of dry paths in criss crossed lines in a grid pattern over a swamp. What once had been a rice fields had been long since abandoned. The tall rice plants now surrounded by other plant life and weeds. Thin tree's hung over them with long empty branches like claws. All the while a fog hung heavy in the air. It resembled an early morning in a hot swamp climate. Down the path a ways was what appeared to be an old ruined set of two shacks and an old barn still intact. The barn the same color as the door. The same peeling red paint. However this would only be a short time to contemplate. Behind them the door closed and the room took on the appearance of just a wall of forest behind them. No handle to reopen the door. Just a small gap under it to show the hallway. The lights flickering off until there was just a red line under the door. No more than a half inch thick. A blanket of fog would roll along the floor around them and begin to conceal the paths and the swamp...however there was a shadow. A motion that passed them just out of sight in the thick fog. A shadow there one moment and then merely shifting mist the next. Then the fear would come. A sensation like there was something the mind couldn't wrap itself around. The bigger issue is it felt like that unthinkable something was out there....and it was hunting them.