Chapter 133: Mid-Term [8]
The end of the platform opened with a groan into the heart of the labyrinth, whose door was made of stone.
The room was spacious and round. Its walls were cut out of the same weeping, moss-covered stone with which its corridors were made, and projected into the impenetrable darkness.
It did not have a big throne, or a treasure hoard, or a big monster of flesh and blood. In the middle of it was the whirl of shadow and light, a mass of raw psychic energy, a vortex of anarchy and formlessness.
Screams, cries, and snivels were heard in the vortex garden, and they created a symphony of all the amplified fears of the entrapments.
Spectral faces in anguish and despair fluttered a moment in the vortex and were sucked back into the turmoil of the whirl.
Even the air was a weapon, full of the psychic residue of hundreds of terrified minds.
"What is that thing?" His knuckles were white as Alex sucked in the grip of his shield.
