Project Dakota: Rising of the dead
The moment the shattered library door swung shut behind us, the world fractured into two distinct, terrifying realities. Outside, the moaning chorus of the drawn horde swelled, a dissonant symphony of hunger echoing off the brick and concrete of the campus. Inside, it was a tomb. The air was cold, stale, and heavy with the scent of decaying paper, old leather, and the pervasive, sweet-rotten undertone that signaled death. Dust motes, disturbed by our violent entry, danced in the few slivers of gray light that cut through the grimy, high-set windows, illuminating a vast, shadowy expanse of towering bookshelves that receded into an abyssal darkness.
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