The ominous building loomed before them, a brutalist silhouette against the bruised sky, its jagged edges seemingly carved from solidified despair. It was less a structure and more a scar on the face of the Dreamscape, a place where reality had been violently twisted and torn apart.
No light emanated from its broken windows, only deeper shadows that seemed to pulse with an unseen malice. The faint, resonant hum they'd felt earlier now vibrated through the very ground, a low, guttural growl that suggested the building itself was alive, and hungry.
"This is it," Andrew murmured, his voice barely audible above the omnipresent thrum. The adrenaline from the skirmish was still coursing through him, but a fresh wave of apprehension, cold and sharp, was building in its place. He adjusted his grip on his combat knife, the familiar weight a small comfort.
