You speak to the darkness.

And the darkness speaks back.

A voice, cracked and brittle, echoes off the walls. "It is probably for the best that you do not gaze upon me, at least not at the beginning." There is a dry chuckle, rasping against your ears like sandpaper. "My visage is not one to bring comfort to infants, or anyone for that matter." There is a rustling of clothing. "No, it would not do to chase away the champion so soon upon your arrival." Another cackle emits from the throat of the unseen speaker.

"But I should be going before your eyes adjust to the dark." You hear the sound of something being placed upon the floor near you. Then the shuffling of feet moving away until in the distance, a door creaks open and slams shut.

This time you are alone.

One Tree Home

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You let your eyes adjust to the dark.

You seek that which is on the floor.

You crawl in the direction where you think the door is.