Rosalind found herself once again ensnared in the clutches of a dream, yet this particular vision possessed an unsettling realism that enveloped her senses.
The dream world seemed to blur with actuality, compelling Rosalind to experience the temperature of her surroundings as if they were tangible.
Her gaze fixated upon the woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to herself. This mysterious doppelgänger traversed the underground expanse, meandering through a forsaken labyrinth of convoluted tunnels and caverns that seemed to stretch on indefinitely.
A chilling silence hung heavily in the air, broken only by the faint scurrying of rats and the distant, eerie echoes of unearthly whispers.
The flickering glow of dim, sulfurous torches barely illuminated the scene, casting long, distorted shadows that danced upon the damp walls. The air was thick with a damp chill, carrying the foul stench of decay and malevolence.
