Room23b
Jora reaches for the black mirror which rushes over them with almost predatory intent. The shocking cold of the mirror is more intense than any he has felt so far.
The room spins around him. The vision of the town stretches and deforms turning friends and neighbors into monstrous caricatures and finally into a blur of colors that blends into a single muddy swirl.
The transition is lasting longer than any they have thus far endured. The pain of the passage is far greater as well. Is this a good sign? Are they being made to suffer so that they may return home?
The cold and pain increase until he hears himself and his friends screaming.
A voice reaches them through the agony of pain and the darkness of this place where they hang suspended. It is rough and full of vehemence.
“The white of the snow will cover the green of your fields and you shall turn black before you escape.”
The wizard’s voice changes to phlegm filled laughter as they fall into eternal darkness, screaming.