In the second realm of the underworld, grief reigns supreme. The land is rugged and unforgiving, with steep mountainous terrain that is perpetually blanketed in snow. In this frigid landscape, the statues of fallen giants loom over all who enter, a reminder of the futility of trying to conquer the underworld. It’s said that the howls of the damned can be heard echoing through the valleys, their mournful cries reinforcing oppressive atmosphere of the realm.
As I made my way through the endless snowfall, I could hear the mournful cries of lost souls whistling through the mountains. Their voices were filled with anguish and regret. It was clear that here, grief consumed all damned to this wretched place. I pressed on, knowing I had to face my own grief if I ever hoped to escape this dark and desolate place.
