"So cold "
Thomas slowly opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the eerie cold.
Not the quick chill of an autumn morning in london, nor the bite of the air conditioning in his bedroom. This was dark, ancient and damp. He felt it crawl beneath his skin like a beast trying to devour it's prey.
He slowing stood up and noticed the sky or rather the absence of one. Above him was a dome of swirling fog, lit by only the pulse of a distant violet glow that came and went like breath. There was no sun or stars.... the world he knew was gone.
The Book he had read just before sleeping. The ''CHRONICLE TORMENT ' , his favorite
Series. Having 15 volumes of raw violent, grief driven and Eldritch horror. He had spent most of his time studying it's ancient spells, characters, political battles and unknown gods. Like a mad man he obsessively loved it.
Now the world was his reality.
Just as he was organising his thought. Other figures stirred in the darkness a dozen if not more. Men and women, some young, some older, all looking strucked with fear, confusion and disbelief in their eyes. Unknown, yet not unknown. One of them -a pale woman in a torn tank top whispered a name with reverence and horror:
"The Dreadlords brought us. Just like in the book."
Thomas froze, as if struck by lightning.
The Dreadlords...cunning beings endowed with the power of darkness and mind control. The lowest level of ancient gods in this world that can tear open reality to kidnap souls for their eternal "Game"-a sport where mortals bled for their amusement.
Now the Thomas and the others were their new players.
The rules were simple: SURVIVE. In the trials of betrayal and bloodshed- and the slow erasure of everything human in them.
Everyone who was here had read the books or even touched them.
But while everyone starts at the same point, Thomas was already miles away.
"Damn, I'm really f**ked.
Welcome to the world of despair.