Peering into the mirror, I see a face of innocence. What lies beyond is as cold as the feeling of Cristine being sucked into it. Dusty and dark, the staircase wraps around itself. It’s not long before you reach the cold cement bottom. Thin cold air clothes around you but there doesn’t seem to be any wind blowing, just the feeling. Dimly lit candles are faint and placed just enough to see the corners of the cavern. It’s like one of those creepy basements that you just want to quickly get in and out of. Except there’s no escaping the Phantom of the Opera.

        It’s a pretty spacious cavern. One that could be easily lit and cleaned up for company. Though it’s not and it doesn’t therefore giving the lair the lonely vibe it has. This place needs no “Keep Out” signs. It speaks for itself! Fog rises slowly two inches above the ground that’s so thick it masks your feet and if you look close enough, the dark plays tricks on your eyes making faces in within the fog. Suddenly an awful smell hits the air. The smell of death. It smells shriveled and old. The Phantom’s Lair is not an ideal place to be.  

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