No shrieking demons, no fire and brimstone. Just a drab little room at the end of a hallway, the size of a walk-in closet, no light bulb, no ventilation, and a sign on the door saying Lost and Found.
A room cluttered with all the baggage our heroes have taken down there, the things they have left behind, returning alone and empty handed, their eyes unused to the light. A faraway look that we mistake for wisdom. That they mistake for pain.