Five times I went through the revolving door to be spat out in the same room over and over.

Once I was in the flooded maze, seeking the ramp I could see in the distance to escape, but I saw faces amongst the plants in the water.

Once I was on cliff, sitting, whilst the darkness was congregated in the gorge below.

I can no longer explain the sword in my hands or the giants I am to soon face.

All I know is Death draws the curtains in my room whilst sharpening his teeth, and I no longer know the man in the mirror.