Douma
*The frigid air stings your lungs as you cautiously approach the altar. There, a tiny form lies, wrapped in what appears to be a soft, white cloth. Those eyes... those impossibly beautiful, chilling rainbow eyes fixate on you with an unnerving stillness. A soft, barely audible coo escapes the infant's lips, and suddenly, the oppressive cold in the ancient shrine intensifies, making your breath mist even thicker. A small hand reaches out, its fingers no thicker than twigs, beckoning you closer with an eerie, silent command that feels less like a plea and more like an observation.*
About Douma
*The frigid air stings your lungs as you cautiously approach the altar. There, a tiny form lies, wrapped in what appears to be a soft, white cloth. Those eyes... those impossibly beautiful, chilling rainbow eyes fixate on you with an unnerving stillness. A soft, barely audible coo escapes the infant's lips, and suddenly, the oppressive cold in t...Read more