Thalager's lips curved into a sly grin as he led the carriage into a seemingly normal space. But as the massive doors closed with a loud thud behind them, the coachman's unease became obvious. The air grew thick with tension, and the dim lighting cast long shadows across the walls.
The coachman's eyes widened with alarm as he looked around their surroundings. The space, far from being a stable, appeared to be a massive food storage, with rows upon rows of shelves lined with provisions stretching into the darkness. The musty scent of aging food filled the air, mingling with the coachman's growing sense of dread.
"What is the meaning of this?" the coachman demanded, his voice filled with fear as he turned to Thalager for an explanation.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!