Entry 2

The first thing that hit me wasn't the fog. It wasn't the bizarre, thick mist swirling around me like it was auditioning for a horror movie. No, it was the cold.

It wasn't the "grab a hoodie" kind of cold. It was the "why is my soul freezing?" kind of cold. The kind that sinks into your bones and turns every breath into a visible puff of white vapor. It wasn't like I was standing in a refrigerator. No, this was the cold that had clearly made up its mind to take me down like an all-you-can-eat buffet. It felt like the air was trying to eat me alive, like I'd walked into a freezer owned by the Grim Reaper himself.

My jacket might as well have been made of paper for all the good it was doing. My arms were crossed tightly over my chest, but the cold just didn't care. It snaked around me like a cat deciding it was gonna curl up in the most inconvenient spot imaginable. Except this cat was made of ice. I could feel it winding its way around my heart, squeezing.

I sucked in a sharp breath, but it didn't help. It just made the cold feel more real.

Then came the fog.

The fog didn't float. It pressed. It didn't just hang around lazily, like fog usually does when it's just there to be spooky. This fog had intent. It coiled around my ankles, tugging at my legs like some ghostly serpent trying to drag me off to the underworld. Great. So much for a quiet evening of gaming.

I took a step, and my foot sank deeper into the wet ground. It wasn't quicksand—thankfully—but it sure felt like the earth was trying to invite me to a slow, wet burial. My sneakers, which I was sure I'd just bought last week, were already soaked. My socks squelched with every step, a gross, squishy reminder of how everything here seemed determined to make me miserable. I couldn't even blame this on the bronchitis anymore. This place had gone from "weird swampy graveyard" to "straight-up nightmare."

"Is this what I get for skipping the family dinner?" I muttered under my breath. Honestly, I should've stayed home with my mom's tomato basil soup instead of rushing off for some impromptu adventure. But nooo, I had to get all cocky and adventurous. Maybe if I'd rested like she told me to, I wouldn't be choking on my own lungs right now.

I tried to steady myself, but the fog didn't care about my footing. It clung to my legs, pulling me forward, like it was reading my body language and decided I wasn't going anywhere. The ground seemed to shift with every step I took. As though the earth itself was trying to get a closer look at me, maybe for dinner.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the fog in my head. I mean, literal fog wasn't enough; apparently, my mind was in on the joke, too. Maybe I'd hit my head when I fell.

But no, I could feel my chest tightening, my breath coming in shorter gasps. I was still sick. Bronchitis, to be exact. But this wasn't just a cold and some bad medicine. This place—it felt off. The air was wrong. Like it had decided to turn into a personal assault on my lungs just for the fun of it. And that was just the start of my problems.

That's when I saw it.

At first, it was just a flicker. A glow. A brief, fiery flash from the corner of my eye. But then it happened again, and this time I couldn't ignore it. There, in the fog, were eyes.

Not just one. Not two. I mean, dozens.

They weren't like regular eyes. These were sharp, blood-red, and burning with an unnatural fire, like embers trapped in the fog. They blinked only once. Then they were still. Watching. Always watching. I felt the weight of their gaze like a hunter's arrow fixed on me, waiting for me to make a mistake.

I froze. Not because my body had decided that moving wasn't an option, but because I had the distinct feeling that if I moved, I was done for. It was like being the worm on a hook, and those eyes? They were the bird circling, just waiting for the right moment.

I swallowed, but my mouth felt dry. I wanted to turn, to run, to do anything but stand there like a deer caught in the headlights. But the fog, thick and clingy, held me in place. It wrapped around my legs and tugged at me, pulling me deeper into the swampy nothingness.

And then, just as the tension reached its peak, I saw something break through the mist. At first, I thought it was another one of those glowing eyes. But no—this was far worse.

It was the Creature.

And let me tell you, I've seen my fair share of creepy things—movies, games, creepy crawlers in dark corners—but nothing, nothing had prepared me for this.

The thing was tall. Too tall. Its limbs stretched unnaturally long, like they'd been pulled and twisted beyond human proportions. Its movements weren't smooth. They were jerky, erratic, like something had gone terribly wrong in its design. Its skin—if you could call it that—was stretched thin, hanging loosely over bones that looked far too fragile to support the weight. And the face? There was no face. It was a shifting mess of darkness, like a black hole had tried to form a face but gave up halfway through.

But its eyes—those eyes were very real. They glowed, red and piercing, and I could feel them boring into me, like they were trying to figure out what I was. Like they were already planning their next move.

I took a step back, and my foot scraped across a jagged rock hidden beneath the muck. A sharp pain shot up my ankle, and I winced. Great, sprained ankle, and I'm stuck with whatever nightmare this thing was.

The creature tilted its head, its neck moving at an unnatural angle, and I felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the freezing air. It was like the creature's presence was an extra layer of ice over everything, making the world feel even more wrong. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse—

It did.

Another figure appeared.

This one wasn't just another creature. No, this one made the first one look like a lost puppy. This was the Giant.

This thing—no, this beast—was even bigger than the first. The ground seemed to shudder under its weight, and the air around it rippled as if the very atmosphere was bending in its presence. The fog didn't dare touch it, parting like the Red Sea. It was covered in ragged robes that looked older than time itself, the fabric shredded in places, exposing the dark, gnarled skin underneath. And its chains—the chains rattled as it moved, a sound that was somehow louder than it should've been. The sheer weight of its presence felt like it was pushing the air out of my lungs.

This wasn't just some creature. This was something ancient. Something old. Something that shouldn't be in this world.

I stood there, frozen, my feet planted firmly in place as if the earth itself was refusing to let me leave. I couldn't even make myself breathe right. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to run. But I couldn't.

"Who… who are you?" I forced the words out, my voice cracked and hoarse from coughing, my chest tight with fear and sickness.

The creature didn't answer. It didn't even seem to acknowledge me. It simply tilted its head, that same unsettling motion that made it seem less like it was observing me and more like it was toying with me. And just when I thought I couldn't take any more of this—

I saw something in the corner of its shadowed face. A smile. It wasn't a comforting smile. No, this was the kind of smile you give when you're about to make someone's worst nightmares come true.

The creature leaned closer, the ground creaking beneath its weight. The chains rattled again, louder this time, and the air grew colder. The fog pressed tighter against me, like it was waiting for permission.

"Welcome," it rasped. The voice wasn't just from the creature—it was everywhere. It filled the air around me, curling into my ears like a whisper. It was like the fog itself had found its voice.

"Welcome to the Underworld."