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You dance like never before. With every spin and jump your dance becomes more powerful. You become one with the dance, twirling and shaking. The dance feeds off your every movement, growing in power and energy. Not that you care about details like that, because you?re dancing and you like it.

Unfortunately, your dance has become too powerful for your own good. You created it, but you cannot control it. The dance has taken over your mind and your soul. Like a sort of cruel god, the dance now owns you, it commands you dance harder, faster and more vigorously then any normal human body could take. You now belong to the dance.

The rhythms of the dance grow strange and discordant. You pop, and lock, and crack, and toil, and retch, and furrow, and slop, and grasp. Where before you were cutting a rug, now you are cutting the fabric of spacetime itself. The dance propels you deep into a crevice between worlds.

Then, as soon as it begun, it is over. You're dumped unceremoniously into a dank and musty place. The walls are covered with bookcases filled with dusty books. The only exits appear to be a stairway leading up and another stairway leading down.

Level3 WIP