Some, they relive some dark terror each and every day anew; some, they walk in the agonizing wait of a horror that is ever yet to be; some are froze in fright, as they witness a pain that is always fresh and new; some stand forever numb from a shock they only just received.
In the cave of lost souls they suffer, they grieve, they hurt, they fear, they bleed, they die. Eternal, endless is their pain, a pain not one of them deserves to know, not one of them deserves to feel.
The walk the lonely tunnels of the cave, which stretch as far as time without an end. They wander lost and lonesome to the farthest reaches of the dismal cave. They despair in destitution and the utter loss of hope and life and love. They feel their way in darkness, as they lurch, and trip, and stumble through the somber corridors of loneliness.
They quest on without hope, or faith not knowing why it is they even quest. They search on endlessly, yet finding only pain and grief and terror still anew.
The Cave of Lost Souls, a netherworld of darkness and anguish. A place that stinks of death, of pain, of sorrow and despair. A place reeking of loneliness, dreading and utter loss. Freedom is but a memory, though some day distant they might again be free.