You stumble back to the yawning crypt doorway, the cold obsidian walls trembling as the abyssal tide claws at your cursed greaves; a thin column of petrified-roots rises like a skeletal spine, offering a precarious perch above the swelling black water. The spirit-embers flicker wildly, casting trembling shadows that whisper of the drowned‑god's wrath and the promise of fleeting salvation.