This room is knee-deep in blood; it stops where the arch is as if meeting an invisible barrier, though you certainly can't feel one if you try to pass through that way. The blood is warm and thin, not congealed at all; the smell of the blood is overwhelmingly pervasive, though it too stops at the arch. Perhaps this blood comes from the bodies scattered everywhere -- bodies of men and women in coats that were once white, thrown in piles, floating face down in the blood, hanging from chains in the ceiling.

There is a body in the dead centre of the room, impaled through his torso on a large metal spike which rises from the ground. The man here is handsome, apparently on the younger side of middle-aged, with blond hair and an agonized expression. He's facing upward, head tilted back. The spike is about five feet high; he's about two feet down on it.

The blood whirls and eddies in one spot in the room, as if there is something beneath it which is causing motion in the water. Chains appear to be leading to it from the tall spike.