The inside of the House of Unused Entrances was a violation of geometry.
They didn't crawl into a room. They crawled into a vertical abyss.
Raven emerged first, standing up on a floor made of polished obsidian that seemed to float in a void. He offered a hand to Gazelle, pulling her up. She gasped, the air leaving her lungs in a rush.
The "walls" were infinite, stretching up and down forever, lined with millions of shelves. But instead of books, the shelves held glass jars. Inside each jar, a faint light pulsed—blue, amber, sickly green, and furious red. Inside the lights, tiny scenes played out on loop.
Gazelle stepped closer to the nearest shelf, her breath fogging the glass of a jar glowing with a cold, lonely blue light. She expected to see a draft of the Manor. She expected to see a sketch of a monster.
Instead, she saw a small, cramped apartment in the real world.
