The object of their obsession. A metre-by-metre cube, placed carefully in the back of this water-logged cave. Altar-like, it lies directly opposite the entrance, clearly denoting its pious status. Although no crimson cloth or stained glass adorns it, the spiritual weight of this box lies heavy on any around it, like viewing the unpleasant answer to your problems. You mightn’t recognise why you felt this at first, however, as the relic is seemingly invisible; the cave's back wall can be seen clearly behind. Currently, the only sign that it is there at all is the stretched out, desperate arm of a dead woman clinging to it.
Even in death, she couldn't let go.
Her arms bear long slits all the way down, the blood having dripped down seemingly nothing. The unwashed, matted hair rolls off the sides to the floor, like the curtains on a confessional. Entirely naked, the body's skin has grown taut, assumedly in response to this dwelling's frigid environment. Her eyes remain eerily fixated. A look of betrayal can be seen behind the irises. Things weren't meant to go like this.
Similar bodies are strewn around the cave. Some sit in the foetal position, head buried between the knees or resting upon crossed arms. Others are laid out on their back, visages facing the shallow ceiling, half-covered in water. They bear similar marks to the lady on the box, except in different areas; thighs, bellies and necks can be seen with that signature red, the token of their work. The only thing everyone has in common are, again, those eyes. Transfixed. Scarred. Lied to.
The abode in which they lay is as unpleasant as their cadavers. A strangely calming blue is all around; a gradient from serene azure to deep ultramarine, which could only be noticed from looking at either side of the chamber individually. Less pleasing is the state of the walls; concave, their surface is riddled with holes and rough edges, craggy, as if water-damaged. The ceiling supports this idea, as it is covered with stone stalactites, ready to fall down and impale those beneath. Curiously, the further up you look, the darker the blue gets. In the scarce gaps between these rocky spikes, the shade is borderline navy.
There's no passage behind you. There's no way out. It's simply you, these silent faces, and that unseen, overbearing box.