You stand still, before turning around, and turning around again. You look all around, but all you see is the odd sand, and a storm - a sandstorm. Without thinking, you run in the opposite direction, before coming across a cave.
You look in awe at the glorious paintings around you; glorious may be a stretch, but you’re intrigued. The paintings themselves are beautiful. They’re hard to understand, but they convey… something. Something primitive and ancient, not something modern; animals and traced hands fill the walls of the cave, and some spear-looking drawing on one part of the ceiling. The place, while not a palace, was beautiful, and you were in awe. It all felt familiar. Not the anomalous familiarity of the Backrooms; just, familiar. Everything you see here is understandable, but not in writing, literature, or language; you just knew that somehow you were connected to it. That connection might have been past-tense… Ancient cave art was what most would refer to this art as. That’s what made the familiarity so… so… so human. You step farther into the rather dark cave, without a fear in mind. Eventually, you come across a painting of a map. The map was rudimentary at best, and very incorrect, from what you remember of Frontrooms maps. It appeared to be of Europe and Africa, likely around the time of Mansa Musa. You traveled deeper into the cave, your footsteps becoming even louder as the sandstorm in the distance either calmed, or you ventured further away from it.