Down underneath the opera house.

Hallway after hallway turn after turn. Candles line both side of the hallways, shining bright but the heavy fog occupying the hallways make the candle light look dim. The concrete is gray and dry until you reach the underground lake where it begins to turn damp and dark. The boat used to get to the other side of the lake docked, moving slowly back and forth  as the water creeps through the cave.

On the other side of the lake is land. With a old leather throne with gold embroidery with a white mask perched on top. There are also antique paintings on the walls, crooked and  bent out of shape. On the cold concrete floor sits a dark red stained carpet with a mirror, smashed and stained with fingerprints. Around the mirror on the floor sits many glass chips soaked with fresh blood.

The air was cold and humid.  It was also mostly quiet all you could hear was the water in the underground lake move and hear the boat rock back and forth, back and forth caused by the water underneath it. The lair felt lonely and abandoned. Just standing there in the middle of the lair watching it, taking in all it’s glory. You get drowned by the feeling of despair.