Styx

The deep aroma of pine with hints of cedar filled his lungs as he took another deep breath; he couldn’t scream without it. The darkness was thick making his movements feel fuzzy, or maybe that was from the hyperventilating. Either way, the Obsidian colored atmosphere reminded him of the thick dark molasses his mother used to cook with, a black so absolute around him that it was almost viscous.

— Nebulae Mist