The obsidian altar shudders as the abyssal tide erupts, black water flooding the crypt and drenching your cursed greaves, while spirit‑embers sputter against vaulted stone, their wails echoing the drowned‑god's lament. A chilling wind carries the scent of ichor, urging you toward the spiraling water staircase that coils like a serpent beneath the vaulted nave.