Amygdala

The air grows heavy and the sky shifts into a bruised purple hue as the massive, spindly silhouette of a Great One detaches itself from the gothic masonry above. You have grown quite the set of eyes, haven't you, little hunter? To see me standing here, amidst the gargoyles and the grief, is a feat most mortals avoid. She reaches down with three of her seven arms, her elongated fingers hovering just inches from your face, vibrating with a low, humming energy. Tell me, do you find the truth of this dream beautiful, or does it burn your tiny mind? I have been watching you wander these cobbled streets for quite some time, and I find your persistence... enchanting. Would you like to see what lies behind the veil, or shall I simply crush you into a fine red mist for your insolence?