In the icy, bone-chilling seawater, Charles dragged his dilapidated body toward the light in the eerie city.
Anna had been persuaded by him to leave, though she had promised she would find a way to rescue him, telling him to hide below and wait for her. Charles had agreed, but of course, that was a lie. No matter the outcome, Anna had to leave this dangerous place first. Whatever happened next would be his burden to bear alone.
Charles swam slowly. He moved at a snail's pace, his tentacles occasionally having to snatch back parts of his body as they fell off. But after that god had departed, nothing else disturbed him. Slowly, he began to make out the true nature of the light.
It was not a key, but a massive, glowing humanoid figure. Its entirely white form was shrouded in a pale, bizarre halo—a color born of terror and aberration, possessing a stunning, shocking beauty.
