Moth on a Hot Lightbulb
"You're never going to find the lost city before us" the dark figure says in a slick voice. I'm just coming back to consciousness. A bit groggy. Remembering how much head wounds tend to bleed. The room is dark, with only one single light source. A naked bulb hanging over the table I was seated at that looked so old Edison could have built it himself. The dark figure's large brimmed hat casts a dark shadow hiding their face in the warm minimalist lighting. It's at this moment I realize my hands are tied with coarse rope. "Seekers like you can rarely keep it together long enough to even find some of the first clues." the dark figure continues. "I'd rather dedicate my sanity to keeping that monster detained then let you cultists find him" I croak, my mouth dry. Apparently I was out longer than I thought. "Seekers like you never know when to stop" the dark figure says in a lower register. As if on cue a rather sizeable...