1760, Siberia
Two mountains rose like ancient sentinels, their snow-capped peaks vanishing into the frozen sky. Between them yawned a tunnel so black, it devoured the light itself. Even the wind seemed hesitant to enter.
The king of Russia rode through the forest, his soldiers trudging through knee-deep snow. He believed he was on a hunt—but the forest had other plans.
A rustle came from the shadows. Then… a figure.
At first, it moved like a wolf—swift, silent, deadly. But then it stopped, stretching taller, taller than any man should. Its eyes glowed faintly, like embers smoldering in the dark.
"Did you see that?" one soldier whispered, gripping his spear.
"Stay close," another said, voice trembling. "Whatever it is… it's unlike anything we've faced before."
The King's eyes narrowed. "Go after it! Capture it!"
But the creature had already vanished, melting into the tunnel's darkness as if it had never existed.
That was humanity's first glimpse of the cursed passage.
Over the next 265 years, Russia launched four expeditions—twice under the Kings, twice under modern armies.
None returned.
Legends spread. Some said the tunnel led to the edge of the world. Others whispered it was a gateway to another realm, a place where no human could survive.
Even the President of Russia once remarked:
"If there truly exists a gateway to hell on this planet… it lies buried somewhere in Siberia."
And yet, the tunnel waited. Patient. Eternal. Watching.
Decades later, the snow still covered the footprints of those who had dared enter. Winds howled through the mountains, carrying whispers of the unseen. Those who stepped inside were never the same. Some never returned at all.
"Are you sure we should go?" one young explorer asked, his voice barely audible over the wind.
"There's no turning back now," his companion replied. "Curiosity brought us here. Fear won't let us leave."
Time in those forests seemed frozen, as if the tunnel itself had stopped it.
The mountains and the abyss between them stood as a challenge to every brave—or foolish—soul.
Beneath the snow and silence, something waited. Something watching. Something hungry.
From 1760 to 2025, mankind tried, failed, and yet the tunnel remained.
It was not just darkness. It was a test. A temptation. A warning.
Those who dared enter faced not just the unknown, but the shadow of death itself.
And the tunnel waited—for the next foolhardy soul to step inside, for the next story, for the next scream lost in the cold.
What lies at the edge of the world? Or beyond this realm? No one knows. But for those who enter, time, space, and life itself may fracture and fade.
One day, perhaps someone will walk in again. Perhaps they will uncover its secrets.
But the tunnel remains silent. Patient. Eternal.
Because it is not merely a passage. It is a curse—a test of humanity's curiosity, courage, and fear.
Those who enter may never return. And beneath the snow-draped mountains, the darkness waits—forever.