the white room

The door is made of heavy wood, and is slightly swollen from the humidity. Corroded metal hinges groan as you push it open, the bottom grinding across the rough flagstone floor. A cool mist awaits behind the door, and a soft glow. Quite unlike the horrors of the last room, no ravening goblins await you here. You sense the elf behind you, a small bundle of nervous energy skulking in the shadows of the corridor.

Most of the room is tough to see from the doorway. The ceiling is lost in the glowing white mist above. Your sword rings as you draw it, and you flinch. You can’t hear him but you know the elf is sneering behind you in silence. The floor here crunches underboot. It’s made of a gritty white substance, similar to sand in texture but oddly chalky.

The light from above flickers madly, like the torchlight from the halls behind you but from every direction at once, and of an unholy pale color. You look back for the elf and his skin shines green under the weird light.

“What is this place?” he asks you.

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