It was a dark red eye the size of a small house, with no pupil inside. Charles had seen it before; the eyeball Anna stitched onto her own body was from this very entity. The giant eyeball rapidly ascended, becoming a crimson moon in the darkness. But for Charles, this was not a good sign, because the eye's gaze remained fixed on him.
There was more than one eyeball. As sticky eyelids in the darkness began to part, the ceiling of the labyrinth was once again covered with a dense carpet of dark red eyes.
Charles forced himself to stifle the panic threatening to sweep over him. He could not lose his nerve now. Years spent skirting the edge of death had taught him that the more you panic in moments like this, the faster you die.
