You enter into a mine. Clumsily toppled are numerous support pillars, their flimsy wooden frame hardly inspiring confidence. Walking around, you notice that everything is frozen, a thin ice-sheet has frozen all in place. Scattered on the ground are various tools– carts, wrenches, and mysterious equipment lost on you. It is difficult to walk without slipping.

A rancid smell hangs in the air. Stale. Iron.

You can’t quite put your finger on what makes this place to disturbing but you feel compelled to move forward and explore all the same.

[Descend down the widest tunnel, the only passage marked with a sign, written in blood, which reads, “Are we Milton?”] {Text challenge}

[Search the room]


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