(The Time-Stilled World, Altar Room, Leo's POV)
"Don't look at the casket... don't look at the casket..."
Leo kept mumbling the words inside his head like a broken mantra, as he forced his eyes forward and moved with deliberate steps toward the stone table at the far end of the room, refusing to acknowledge the looming sarcophagus that lay between him and his target.
He knew that nothing good would come from him turning his gaze towards Zharnok's casket, or his painted mural, and hence he mentally forbade himself from even looking there.
*Step*
*Step*
Step after step, he inched closer to the table, despite the mounting psychological pressure.
However, the moment his boots crossed the invisible line that placed the casket in his peripheral vision, Leo felt his vision double, his mind go blank, and his legs nearly give out beneath him, as though some unspoken pressure had curled its fingers around his skull and had begun to slowly squeeze him.
