Tenma157

The world around you slows, as if time itself holds in its breath, and the shadows around you deepen, almost becoming solid things, angular and vicious.  The unnatural silence is broken only by the steady cracks and pops of the hearth fire.  You more feel than hear a tumultuous crash and the door to the manor shudders, small splinters forming near the handles and hinges.  You blink once and struggle to control your quickening breath.  The timber-splitting impact resounds around you once again, every nerve quickening, preparing your flight from the room, for whatever thing lies in wait upon the other sid