Jack remained on the cold tiles of Angel Station, his breath ragged as the train idled before him. The carriage doors stood open, waiting, their sterile light spilling onto the platform. The ticket lay just out of reach, a cruel reminder of the inexplicable nightmare tightening its grip around him.

The air seemed heavier, pressing against his chest, demanding a decision. He clenched his fists, his fingers aching from the cold. There was no other option. He couldn’t stay here—not in this silent, suffocating limbo.

Slowly, Jack reached for the ticket and stuffed it into his coat pocket. He forced himself to his feet, the weight of exhaustion threatening to pull him back down. The train hummed softly, its presence both a promise of escape and a harbinger of deeper terror.

He stepped forward, crossing the threshold onto the train.

The doors hissed shut behind him, and the carriage jolted to life. Jack stumbled, gripping a pole for support as the train accelerated. Outside the window, the platform of Angel Station faded into the void, swallowed by shadows.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered erratically, casting sharp, angular shadows across the empty seats. Jack slid into one, his body sagging against the hard plastic. He stared out the window, though there was nothing to see. The darkness beyond seemed alive, shifting and writhing like a living thing.

The intercom crackled, breaking the silence.

“Next station: Old Street,” the distorted voice announced.

Jack’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t familiar with Old Street, not on this line. It didn’t make sense—Angel was on the Northern Line, but the train had been on the Piccadilly Line when this nightmare began.

He pulled out his phone, though he didn’t expect it to work. The screen illuminated weakly, displaying the time: 11:58 p.m.

His stomach sank. That couldn’t be right. It had been 11:58 before, back at Green Park, and again when he had first seen the clock in the chamber.

The train shuddered violently, dragging Jack’s thoughts back to the present. The lights flickered again, plunging the carriage into brief darkness. When they steadied, Jack saw movement in the window’s reflection—a shadow that shouldn’t have been there.

He whipped around, his heart racing. The carriage was empty.

But the feeling of being watched lingered, clawing at the edges of his sanity.

The train slowed, the familiar hum of its engine growing quieter. Jack peered out the window, his breath fogging the glass as the faint glow of another platform came into view.

Old Street Station.

The name was printed on the walls in bold, blocky letters, but the station itself was wrong. The tiles were cracked and grimy, smeared with what looked like soot. The air inside the station was hazy, as though it were filled with smoke or fine dust.

The train stopped, and the doors slid open with a mechanical whine.

Jack hesitated. The platform stretched out before him, empty and foreboding. He considered staying on the train, letting it carry him to the next station, but something about Old Street compelled him.

He stood, his legs unsteady, and stepped onto the platform. The air was thick and acrid, burning his throat with every breath.

The station was silent, save for the faint hum of the train behind him. Jack glanced around, searching for anything—any sign of life, any clue about where he was.

The graffiti on the walls caught his eye. Unlike the scrawled warnings he had seen in the tunnels, these words were clear and deliberate:

"THEY’RE WATCHING."

"BELOW IS ONLY DARKNESS."

"DON’T LISTEN TO THE VOICES."

Jack’s chest tightened as he read the last one. He turned his head, half expecting to see someone—or something—lurking in the shadows.

The train doors hissed shut behind him, the sudden noise making him jump. He spun around just in time to see the train pulling away, its taillights glowing faintly in the darkness.

“No, wait!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty station. He took a step toward the edge of the platform, but it was too late. The train vanished into the tunnel, leaving him stranded.

Jack cursed under his breath, his voice breaking the oppressive silence. He turned back toward the station, scanning its desolate expanse. Old Street stretched out like a mausoleum, the dim lights casting eerie shadows on the walls.

A faint sound reached his ears—a rhythmic tapping, like footsteps echoing from a distant tunnel.

Jack’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from, but it was growing louder.

“Hello?” he called, his voice quavering.

The tapping stopped.

Jack swallowed hard, his eyes darting between the darkened corridors leading away from the platform. The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint hiss of escaping steam from somewhere deep within the station.

And then he heard it.

A voice, faint and distant, whispering his name.

“Jack...”

His blood ran cold. The voice was familiar, achingly so, but it didn’t belong here. It couldn’t.

“Emily?” he whispered, his throat tight.

The voice didn’t respond. Instead, the tapping began again, louder this time, and accompanied by a second sound—a wet, dragging noise, like something heavy being pulled across the tiles.

Jack took a step back, his flashlight trembling in his hand as he shone it into the darkness. The beam revealed nothing but shadows.

The sounds grew closer, reverberating off the walls of the station. Jack’s mind raced, his breathing erratic as he tried to make sense of the noises.

And then, emerging from the far end of the platform, he saw it.

The figure moved haltingly, its limbs jerking in unnatural directions as it dragged itself forward. Its head was tilted at an impossible angle, and its eyes—bright and unblinking—locked onto Jack’s.

Jack stumbled back, his body trembling as he fought the urge to scream.

The whispers returned, louder and more insistent, echoing in his mind like a thousand overlapping voices.

“Run.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and bolted toward the nearest exit, his feet pounding against the tiles as the whispers chased him.

Jack sprinted toward the dimly lit exit sign, its weak glow barely piercing the oppressive shadows around him. The platform felt endless, the distance to the stairwell stretching impossibly as if the station itself conspired to hold him back.

The whispers in his head grew louder, an urgent, discordant chorus pressing against his mind.

“RUN, JACK. DON’T LOOK BACK.”

“IT SEES YOU.”

“KEEP GOING!”

Jack clenched his jaw, forcing himself to ignore the voices. His legs burned with each step, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind him, the dragging noise grew louder, accompanied by a wet, guttural sound that sent ice through his veins.

He risked a glance over his shoulder.

The figure was closer now, its twisted form illuminated in the flickering light. Its elongated limbs scraped against the tiles as it dragged itself forward, its eyes locked onto him with an intensity that made Jack’s stomach churn.

“Leave me alone!” he shouted, his voice echoing down the empty station.

The thing didn’t respond. It didn’t stop.

Reaching the base of the stairs, Jack grabbed the railing and pulled himself up, taking the steps two at a time. His shoes slipped on the damp metal, but he caught himself, adrenaline keeping him upright.

The stairwell spiraled upward into darkness, its narrow walls smeared with grime. The air grew colder, each breath cutting into his lungs like shards of glass. The dragging noise followed him, echoing up the stairs.

He glanced down again and nearly lost his footing. The creature was climbing after him, its movements impossibly fast. Its limbs bent at horrifying angles, its hands gripping the edges of the steps as it crawled upward.

Jack turned away, his panic driving him faster.

“Almost there,” he muttered to himself, his voice trembling. “Almost there.”

The stairwell ended abruptly, opening into another tunnel. Jack stumbled forward, his flashlight trembling in his hand as he swept the beam across the space.

The tunnel was narrower than the others, its walls lined with pipes that dripped an unidentifiable black liquid. The floor was slick, and the air reeked of decay.

Jack didn’t stop to think. He ran.

The sound of rushing water reached his ears as he moved deeper into the tunnel. The whispers had faded now, replaced by an eerie, rhythmic drip that echoed in the distance. Jack’s heart pounded in his chest, his muscles screaming in protest as he pushed himself forward.

The tunnel sloped downward, the incline growing steeper with each step. Jack slowed, his footing precarious on the slick floor.

Ahead, the beam of his flashlight illuminated a pool of water. It stretched across the width of the tunnel, dark and still, reflecting the faint light like a mirror.

Jack stopped at the edge, his chest heaving. The water was opaque, its surface marred by faint ripples that seemed to come from nowhere.

“Great,” he muttered, his voice hollow. “Just great.”

He turned, half expecting to see the creature behind him, but the tunnel was empty. For the first time, silence pressed against his ears.

Jack faced the pool again, weighing his options. The tunnel beyond was obscured by the water, but it was the only way forward.

He knelt, shining his flashlight into the depths. The beam disappeared after a few feet, swallowed by the blackness.

“Don’t do it.”

The voice came from behind him, low and guttural. Jack froze, his skin prickling. He didn’t dare turn around.

“You won’t come back.”

Jack swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he clutched the flashlight. He forced himself to stand, his breath shallow.

“What do you want from me?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

The silence that followed was deafening. Slowly, Jack turned, his flashlight casting jagged shadows on the walls.

No one was there.

He turned back toward the water, his heart hammering. He had no choice. Steeling himself, he stepped into the pool, the icy water soaking through his shoes and biting at his skin.

Each step was agonizing, the water growing deeper with every move. It reached his knees, then his waist, the cold numbing his body.

The whispers returned, faint at first, then rising into a deafening chorus.

“TURN BACK.”

“YOU’LL DROWN.”

“DON’T GO.”

Jack gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move forward. His flashlight bobbed above the surface, its beam trembling as his hands shook.

The water reached his chest, then his shoulders. His breath came in shallow gasps, his body trembling violently. He looked ahead, his flashlight illuminating the tunnel beyond the pool.

And then something grabbed his ankle.

Jack screamed, thrashing wildly as the water erupted around him. He lost his grip on the flashlight, its beam spinning wildly before disappearing beneath the surface. The grip on his ankle tightened, pulling him downward with impossible strength.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

He clawed at the water, his lungs burning as he struggled to stay afloat. His head dipped below the surface, the cold cutting into him like knives.

Beneath the water, he opened his eyes, his vision blurry and distorted. Shapes moved in the darkness, vague and shifting. One of them lunged toward him, its eyes glowing faintly.

Jack kicked out with all his strength, his foot connecting with something solid. The grip on his ankle released, and he surged upward, breaking the surface with a desperate gasp.

He clawed his way forward, his hands finding the edge of the pool. With a final burst of strength, he pulled himself out, collapsing onto the cold floor.

Jack lay there for a moment, his chest heaving and his body trembling. The whispers had faded again, replaced by the faint sound of water dripping onto the tiles.

He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, his breath ragged. His flashlight was gone, lost to the depths of the pool, and the tunnel ahead was shrouded in darkness.

Somehow, he knew he couldn’t go back.

Jack rose unsteadily to his feet, his soaked clothes clinging to his body. He took a step forward, the darkness swallowing him whole.

Jack moved blindly through the darkness, his arms outstretched to feel for the walls of the tunnel. The air was thick and damp, clinging to his skin like a second layer. His heart pounded in his ears, the echoing drip of water the only sound accompanying him.

With each step, the floor beneath him shifted. It was uneven and slick, forcing him to tread carefully. Without his flashlight, his sense of direction faltered, and the whispers that had briefly receded began to creep back, faint but persistent.

“...turn back...”

“...you’re not alone...”

“...it’s waiting...”

Jack shook his head, trying to silence the voices. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling.

The whispering stopped.

For a brief moment, the tunnel fell into an oppressive silence, and Jack froze, his breath caught in his throat. The sudden stillness felt heavier than the whispers, as though the air itself were holding its breath.

Then came the sound—a faint scraping noise, slow and deliberate.

Jack turned toward it, his pulse quickening. The noise came again, louder this time, and unmistakably closer. It echoed down the tunnel, sending shivers up his spine.

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice cracking.

The scraping stopped, and a new sound replaced it: a low, guttural growl that resonated deep in Jack’s chest.

He backed away, his hands brushing against the cold, wet walls of the tunnel. His fingers found something rough—a protruding pipe or handle—and he clung to it for support. His body trembled as the growl grew louder, accompanied by heavy, wet footsteps slapping against the floor.

Jack’s mind raced, weighing his options. He couldn’t see what was coming, but he knew he wouldn’t survive a direct encounter. His only choice was to run.

He turned and sprinted down the tunnel, his shoes slipping on the slick surface. The growl turned into a deafening roar, and the footsteps quickened, their pace matching his own.

The tunnel seemed endless, its walls closing in on him as he ran. The air grew colder, each breath cutting into his lungs like shards of ice. His vision blurred, his body on the brink of exhaustion.

Then he saw it: a faint light in the distance.

The glow was faint and flickering, barely perceptible, but it was enough to pull Jack forward. He pushed himself harder, his legs burning as he closed the distance. The footsteps behind him grew louder, the sound of his pursuer closing in.

As he neared the light, the tunnel opened into another space—a vast chamber that stretched beyond the reach of the faint illumination. Jack stumbled inside, collapsing onto the cold floor.

The light came from an old lantern, its flame weak and unsteady. It hung from a rusted hook on the wall, casting long shadows across the room. Jack crawled toward it, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The growl echoed from the tunnel behind him, followed by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.

Jack’s eyes darted around the chamber, searching for an escape. The room was empty, save for a strange marking etched into the floor—a large circle filled with intricate symbols. The lines glowed faintly, pulsing in time with the flicker of the lantern.

The footsteps stopped.

Jack turned slowly, his body trembling as he looked back toward the tunnel. The light from the lantern barely reached its entrance, casting the space in deep shadow.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, from the darkness, it emerged.

The creature was unlike anything Jack had seen before. Its body was humanoid but twisted, its limbs unnaturally long and jointed in ways that defied anatomy. Its skin was a mottled gray, glistening like wet stone.

But its face—its face was the most horrifying of all. Its features were indistinct, shifting and warping as if it couldn’t decide what it should look like. Only its eyes remained constant, glowing faintly as they locked onto Jack’s.

The creature stepped into the room, its movements slow and deliberate. Its head tilted as it regarded him, and a low, rumbling growl emanated from deep within its chest.

Jack scrambled back, his hands finding the edge of the glowing circle. He didn’t know what the symbols meant, but he felt a strange energy emanating from them—a faint hum that resonated in his bones.

The creature stopped at the edge of the circle, its eyes narrowing.

Jack’s breath hitched. “What... what are you?” he managed to whisper.

The creature didn’t answer. Instead, it reached out, its long fingers curling toward him. The air between them grew colder, the faint glow of the circle intensifying.

Jack’s instincts screamed at him to stay inside the markings. Somehow, he knew the circle was the only thing keeping the creature at bay.

The creature growled again, its voice resonating through the chamber. It spoke a single word, guttural and distorted:

“Leave.”

Jack blinked, his mind racing. Leave? Did it want him to go back? Was this some kind of warning?

“I don’t know how!” he shouted, his voice breaking. “I don’t know where to go!”

The creature tilted its head again, its eyes narrowing. Then, without warning, it slammed its hand against the edge of the circle. The markings flared brightly, emitting a burst of light that sent the creature stumbling back.

Jack flinched, shielding his eyes. When the light dimmed, the creature was gone.

The silence returned, heavy and suffocating. Jack’s chest heaved as he sat in the center of the circle, his mind reeling. The lantern flickered, its light growing weaker.

He forced himself to stand, his legs trembling. The circle had protected him, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed to move, to find a way out.

Jack turned toward the far end of the chamber, where another tunnel loomed in the shadows. The symbols on the floor pulsed faintly, their glow dimming as he stepped away.

He took a deep breath and moved toward the tunnel, his fear mounting with each step.

The darkness swallowed him once again.

Jack pressed into the new tunnel, his hands grazing the damp walls for balance. The air inside was heavier, the staleness making it harder to breathe. Each step echoed faintly, his movements swallowed by the oppressive darkness that seemed alive, pressing against him like a second skin.

He had no light source now, nothing but his own blind determination to move forward. The faint glow of the symbols in the chamber behind him was long gone, and he had no idea where this new path would lead.

Every so often, the whispering returned, faint and fragmented. It didn’t form words this time, but instead morphed into unintelligible murmurs. Jack shook his head, as if physically trying to force the sounds out of his mind.

Then the tunnel began to change.

The walls, once damp and rough, smoothed out, the texture beneath his fingers cold and metallic. The floor felt firmer, more deliberate, as though it had been constructed rather than carved. Jack paused, the unfamiliarity of the new environment unnerving him.

Ahead, a faint blue glow began to creep into view, casting elongated shadows against the tunnel walls. Jack squinted, his pace slowing as he approached the light.

The tunnel opened into another chamber, smaller than the others he had seen but far stranger. The walls were covered in panels of polished steel, their surfaces reflecting the faint glow of a massive screen embedded in the far wall. The screen flickered erratically, its light illuminating a strange assortment of objects scattered across the room: broken clocks, discarded shoes, and stacks of old train tickets.

Jack stepped inside cautiously, his gaze darting around the room. The glow from the screen bathed everything in a cold, artificial light, making the shadows seem deeper and more menacing.

The tickets caught his attention.

They were arranged in neat piles on a metal table in the center of the room. Jack approached slowly, the silence around him almost deafening. Each ticket was identical to the one he carried: frayed edges, faded ink, and the word "Terminal"printed across the destination line.

“What is this place?” Jack murmured to himself, his voice barely audible.

The screen behind him crackled to life, the sound making Jack whirl around. The static on the display shifted, coalescing into a grainy image.

It was a station platform, but not one Jack recognized. The space was eerily still, the fluorescent lights flickering in and out. For a moment, the platform seemed deserted, but then movement caught Jack’s eye.

A figure appeared on the screen, stepping into view.

Jack’s stomach tightened as he recognized himself. The grainy image showed him standing on the platform at Angel Station, staring down the empty tracks.

“What the—”

Before he could finish, the image shifted. The screen now showed him running through a dark tunnel, the same tunnel he had fled earlier. The camera angle was impossible, as though the tunnel itself had eyes.

Jack’s pulse quickened, his breath catching in his throat.

“Is this... watching me?”

The screen flickered again, and the image changed. This time, it showed the room he was standing in, but from above, as though a hidden camera had captured it. Jack stared at the screen in horror as he watched himself move toward the table of tickets, his actions mirrored in real time.

He spun around, his eyes scanning the walls and ceiling for a camera, but there was nothing—no visible lens, no mechanical device. Just smooth, featureless steel.

The screen crackled, and a voice erupted from the speakers, distorted and metallic.

“Jack Holloway.”

Jack froze. The sound of his name, spoken in that unnatural tone, made his skin crawl.

“Who’s there?” he shouted, his voice echoing off the steel walls.

The voice didn’t answer immediately. Instead, the screen displayed a new image: a map of the London Underground. The lines were distorted, looping and intersecting in ways that defied logic. Certain stations were highlighted, their names glowing faintly: Angel, Old Street, Terminal.

“Your journey has begun,” the voice said, its tone both commanding and mocking. “You cannot stop. You cannot return.”

Jack clenched his fists, his anger momentarily overpowering his fear. “Why me? What do you want from me?”

The screen shifted again, displaying a close-up of Jack’s face, his expression twisted with panic and confusion.

“Every passenger must pay their fare,” the voice replied, cold and final.

Jack turned back toward the table, his gaze falling on the tickets. He reached for one, his hand trembling as he picked it up. The faded ink seemed to glow faintly under the room’s artificial light, the word "Terminal" staring back at him.

As he held the ticket, the room began to vibrate. The objects on the table rattled, some falling to the floor. The screen flickered wildly, the static growing louder until it filled Jack’s ears like a roaring tide.

The vibration intensified, and Jack dropped the ticket, stumbling back. The room itself seemed to warp, the walls bending and twisting as though the chamber were alive.

The voice returned, louder now, resonating through Jack’s entire body.

“Your stop is waiting.”

The vibration stopped abruptly, and the room fell silent. Jack stood in the center of the chaos, his breath ragged and his mind racing. The tickets, the screen, the warped map—it all pointed to one thing. He wasn’t just traveling through the Underground anymore. He was caught in something far larger, something far more terrifying.

The only exit from the chamber was a narrow door on the far wall. Its edges glowed faintly, the light pulsating in time with Jack’s heartbeat.

He stepped toward it, his body trembling with both fear and determination.

“Just keep moving,” he whispered to himself.

The door opened as he approached, revealing another dark tunnel. Jack hesitated for a moment before stepping through, the oppressive darkness closing around him once again.

Jack stepped into the tunnel, the faint glow of the door behind him disappearing as it swung shut with a metallic clang. The sound reverberated through the darkness, echoing endlessly until it faded into silence.

The tunnel was unlike the others. It was narrower, the walls closing in on him with every step. The floor was uneven, a mix of cracked concrete and warped steel plates. The air was damp and stifling, carrying a metallic tang that clung to the back of his throat.

Jack’s breaths came shallow and quick, his footsteps hesitant. He couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead, his outstretched hands brushing against the cold walls as he navigated the oppressive dark.

The whispers returned, louder now, closer. They sounded like a crowd, overlapping voices weaving in and out of coherence.

“...no way out...”

“...always watching...”

“...the tracks lead nowhere...”

Jack clenched his fists, forcing himself to push forward. He couldn’t afford to stop, not when the alternative was the growing sense of something behind him—something unseen but undeniably there.

The tunnel began to slope downward, the gradient steepening with every step. Jack slipped on the slick surface, his hands scrambling for purchase against the walls. A faint rumble vibrated through the tunnel, distant but unmistakable, like the low growl of an approaching train.

He paused, his ears straining. The sound grew louder, closer.

Then came the light.

A faint glow appeared at the far end of the tunnel, flickering like a dying bulb. Jack’s heart leapt, a surge of hope breaking through his fear. He quickened his pace, his feet sliding across the uneven ground as he moved toward the light.

The rumble grew into a deafening roar. The glow intensified, bathing the tunnel in harsh, white light.

Jack froze as a train emerged from the darkness.

It wasn’t like any train he had ever seen. Its carriages were warped and rusted, the metal twisted into jagged, unnatural shapes. The windows were shattered, revealing empty interiors bathed in sickly yellow light.

The train screeched to a halt, its brakes emitting an ear-splitting wail that made Jack’s teeth ache. The doors slid open with a groan, revealing nothing but darkness inside.

Jack hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to stay back. The whispers returned, louder than ever, their voices filling the tunnel.

“Board the train...”

“...your only way out...”

“...the Terminal awaits...”

Jack shook his head, his hands clenching into fists. “No,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “I’m not getting on that thing.”

The whispers grew angrier, their tone shifting into something harsher, more guttural. The air around Jack grew colder, the chill biting into his skin.

“BOARD THE TRAIN!”

The command slammed into him like a physical force, making him stagger. He turned toward the open doors, his breath quickening as he felt the pull of something unseen, dragging him forward.

Jack planted his feet, fighting against the invisible force. “No!” he shouted, his voice echoing down the tunnel.

The whispers faltered, their voices overlapping in confusion.

The train doors began to close, their metallic edges grinding against each other. Jack’s heart raced as the light from the train flickered, the glow retreating into the darkness.

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the train was gone.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Jack stood in the empty tunnel, his chest heaving and his hands trembling. The faint vibration of the train lingered in the air, fading slowly into nothingness.

He turned back the way he had come, but the tunnel behind him had changed. The walls were closer now, the space narrowing into a suffocating corridor.

“Great,” Jack muttered, his voice shaky. “Just great.”

With no other option, he moved forward, his hands brushing against the damp walls as he navigated the shrinking path.

The tunnel twisted and turned, its layout becoming more erratic. Jack lost all sense of direction, his steps growing slower and more uncertain. The whispers had faded, but the oppressive silence was worse.

Then he saw it.

A faint light glimmered ahead, flickering like a dying flame. Jack quickened his pace, his fear giving way to desperation. He stumbled into a small chamber, the source of the light revealed as another lantern hanging from the ceiling.

The room was empty, save for a single bench in the center. Jack froze as he recognized it.

It was the same bench he had seen before, back in the first chamber. The same frayed edges of wood, the same faint glow surrounding it.

And resting on the bench was another train ticket.

Jack approached cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement. The ticket seemed to shimmer in the faint light, its edges glowing faintly.

He reached for it, his hand trembling. As his fingers brushed the paper, a new sound echoed through the chamber—a low, rhythmic thump, like the heartbeat of something massive.

Jack snatched the ticket and turned toward the tunnel, his pulse racing.

“Where now?” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible.

The answer came not as a whisper, but as a deafening roar.

The walls of the chamber began to tremble, dust falling from the ceiling as the sound grew louder. Jack staggered back, clutching the ticket as the ground beneath him buckled.

From the tunnel ahead, a new light emerged—brighter, more intense than the train’s glow. It pulsed like a living thing, growing stronger with each beat.

Jack’s legs trembled, his body screaming at him to flee, but his feet felt rooted to the ground. The light engulfed the chamber, its intensity blinding.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the roar stopped. The light disappeared, leaving Jack alone in the suffocating dark.