As the girl cries in the darkness, a tear falls upon the orb.
The stone is cold
That first moment of clarity when you awake. Sometimes it's a jolt. Sometimes it's the slow realisation that you're somewhere else. You think it's a Monday, when it's actually a Saturday. You think you're home, but you're in a hotel room. Those moments of disconnect, before you realise it's okay. You can go back to sleep, content in the knowledge that all is right in the world. But sometimes, on that very odd occasion, you know that something is wrong. That something is horribly wrong.
This is that occasion.
This is not your bed. The cold and the dark flood your senses, rushing in upon you, like a crushing wave. The stone rigid against your back. Holding you up, exposed to the darkness. Your anchor, as your world collapses. You awake upon an alter. An offering to a god, long forgotten. Then you feel it's weight. Hanging around your neck. The orb. Alone in the dark, one thought dominates you.
Where am I?
Then like a gate unlocked the questions cascade within you. Where am I? What happened? What's going on? And that's when you hear it. That's when they all hear it. At first it's a whisper. Like a drum in the distance, marching ever closer. Until it screams within you. It's all you can hear.
@IITJACKII you have been summoned to the Crypt. Good luck.