01
You enter.
The door shuts.
Quick flashes. Half-seen corners. Rooms that feel wrong before you can study them. The point is not clarity — it is the feeling that something just moved before the dark took it back.
Nothing needs to chase you. Once sight is gone, ordinary sounds stop behaving ordinarily. Distance becomes uncertain. A voice can feel too close. A room can feel larger than it is.
The door shuts.
Something starts.
Now guess.
It gets closer.
Ten worlds. No visuals once the lights go out.
ENTER AWAYKE ↗