(February, 2001; another page of writing about Vidus, probably imagining a time much later in the story.)

Whispers rang out in booming echoes, atonal and harsh as the love songs of demons as they danced into his mind. He winced, moaning at the sound's rough edges as his hands rose convulsively, covering his ears in a vain attempt to relocate his blessed silence. No such boon revealed itself, as the clamour originated within his tortured mind, not without. Curling up as through trying to escape the sound by vanishing into himself, Vidus no longer even tried to stop the tears threatening his burning eyes. A single, first drop fell to the floor, and the moment it reached the smooth obsidian, he felt the shift that indicated he had again changed rooms. Terrified at what he might see, yet unable to remain unknowing, he opened his eyes -

And saw a thousand panic-staring eyes, each fixed upon again. Wild eyes, glazed and shimmering with raw emotion, roiling and moving back and forth but their gaze never wavering, dilated pupils glinting with an unholy light. Only after what felt like an age of silent, fixed trembling did Vidus realize what he was looking at - the eyes belonged to severed heads, dozens of heads mounted onto the cragged rock of the wall. Biting back a wave of nausea, he began to desperately ponder the key to escape this new chamber, the sonata of mumbles and screams ringing inside his skull.