Ameni woke up with start, his eyes jolting open, face-down on a cold, hard surface, dull pain emanating throughout his body. He tried pulling himself up, placing both hands on either side of his body, and heaving, ignoring the intensifying pain reverberating throughout his sore body, and eventually succeeding. He looked around, trying to take his surroundings in. Ameni was in a building that superficially resembled a cathedral, it was draped in darkness, illuminated only by a small candle that was placed on the marble slab he woke up on. However, Ameni was thankful that he could not see everything, as the little that was visible to him clued him in on the fact that the hidden parts were hidden for a reason. The architecture of the place was horribly crooked and grotesque, with a nonsensical design and a random plan, with pillars staring and leading to nowhere in particular, lintels without and doorways passing through them, porticos without any columns supporting them, walls bending in and out, twisting and congealing upon each other, size and gravity had no sway on the construction, with paper thin pillars holding gigantic roofs. However, the layout was in no way the worst part, that honour would go to the decorations; The floor of the church was littered with magnificent stone sculptures, that depicted monsters and horrors which Ameni never wanted to meet, with misshaped and twisted bodies, as well as horribly realistic art that depicted horrid and debaucherous scenes layering every free surface. The air smelled of burnt shoe polish and was stagnant, the soft sound of rain falling on stone reverbated through the horrid hall.

Ameni placed his hands around his ears and stared at the ground, his mind unable to process where he was and why he was there, his face distorting into an expression of pure horror and revolt.

“I do not understand”, he thought, “I should have never been here, this was most definitely not the domain of a Companion, I had seen illustrations of what those looked like, they were grandiose and opulent, yet tasteful, a far cry this… this hellhole”.

Ameni wanted nothing more than to crouch down in the fetal position and completely block the nightmare world he was in out, his brain overstimulated, however he managed to maintain his composure and began thinking critically. He realized that nothing would be gained by him simply dallying. He cautiously extended a foot to the floor, afraid of it not being true, and when the ground proved to be firm, he slowly put the other one down as well. Then, after standing up and gingerly picking up the candle set to his side, he began walking in a straight line parallel to the slab, reasoning that he could return to the slab if he found nothing fairly easily.

As Ameni advanced, he saw gradual changes appear in the surrounding environment, the architecture getting gradually more and more bizarre, the sculptures getting gradually more twisted and grotesque, the painting getting more and more intricate, yet abstract and bizarre, the smells getting more pungent, the sound growing louder. However, instead of deterring Ameni, all it did was spur him on, “I’m getting closer to the heart of this place”, he thought, his weak body broke into a jog. Until, that is, he walked into a large chamber.

Ameni ran into it, his face staring at the ground. He took in what he could see. It seemed to be some kind of gigantic throne room, the broken architecture, horrid sculpture, twisted art, disgusting smell and solemn sound had reached a crescendo, giving Ameni a strong urge to cower and move into the fetal position, however his determination had not given out, and he maintained his upright posture. Ameni slowly turned his eyeline up, until he stopped, his eyes widening, there, on the top of his area of vision, he saw two bare feet, tied together. He rapidly turned his eyes up, his eyes widening further as he went. There he saw, a still humanoid figure, with a tight noose around it’s head, a crown constructed out of thorns situated on the top of it’s completely hooded head, impaling it, with rags covering the torso and legs of its body. A wooden sign hung across it’s neck with “The Hanged King”, written across it in a shabby scrawl. Ameni looked at the gruesome sight with a face frozen in horror, however, from the back of his being, he felt a violent, wild urge to touch it. Every cell in his body wanted to touch it. Every neuron fired a signal that read out as “touch it”. He could feel every part of his body positively aching to just touch the hangman. He fought the urge. And he lost. His legs ran in a straight line, his arm outstretched, he jumped forward and…