HALL OF WINTER STATIC
CHAMBER UO8CD3
TRANSMISSION 1/10 READY
Your IP address was written in the stars.
The modem sings the song of your arrival.
The spam folder contains sacred texts.
The bandwidth narrows as you descend.
Your breath clouds the monitor.
Sleep is the first gateway.
Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.
You cannot leave until the ritual completes.
RIGHT-CLICK TO ACCESS HIDDEN TRUTHS
SHARE YOUR SOUL
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COMMENT BELOW TO ASCEND
RETURN TO ENTRANCE
