How does it flow? Does it seem repetitious? I know you don't have too much to go off of here, but I'm not asking for critique of any characters mentioned, rather, just how the excerpt reads as a whole.

Jerrod felt the sides of the slick walls, but he could not see them. Blinded he went into this tunnel expecting to utilize his hearing to guide him through, but it was his smell that led the way. The further in he went, the more wretch and sticky the air had become. It had lured him deeper and further in until the sun behind him had all but gone out. And he was alone with naught but the companionship of putrid and stagnated air to claw at him and drag him further into the dark abyss. Of all the earthly scents that would wrinkle an upturned nose, this had been the most foul. He couldn’t recall why he had been there, or from where he had come. Not even the light that shone from Viera could bring comfort, nor guide his course. Her face was both a distant memory and the only thing on his mind. She was down here somewhere, and he needed to get to her.

The walls had shriveled away, almost clenching back from his touch until he could not longer feel them nor the ground beneath his feet. His shoes ceased to splash into unseen puddles, but moved silently across the black and cold space. It reminded him of reaching for the next step only to have misjudged it with naught but air to catch his fall, yet stumble he did not. He found himself not in a dark, and dank tunnel, but in the open and under, rather, among the infinite skies above.

Without any form of resistance, Jerrod felt himself gliding through the skies across the black wastes that the heavens had settled upon. All around him was darkness, dotted only with soft red stars that danced with one another across a swirling gaseous giant. He was eager to move further, but found himself anchored by a sudden rope about his ankle. He quickly lashed it away with a blade and looked again to the ensemble. There were sixty crimson stars. He did not need to count it, he had already known, like he had always known.

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Suddenly the moon had come to join him, but it was unlike he had known it to be. Rather than sporting a bright white luminescence, it had a circlet of stone forever tied about it’s waist. And then came another, this one more blue and reserved then the last. And they were all dancing. Then came dozens of similar moons that seemed to twirl from just beyond the girth of the giant. The titan of the stars with his many wives. Jerrod felt he could but claim a single red jewel from his crown, surely he would not notice one missing? Not that he sported so many, and was surrounded by kith and kin? He felt his fingers grow numb, and suddenly he was reminded of where he was. There was no air to bite him, yet he was chilled with a fierce wind that made his veins into rivers of ice.

And he found that he could no longer move, for his body had been frozen in place. He could suddenly hear her behind him. It wasn’t that he was tied down, but he was holding a rope that she had been clutching. And he cast Viera away to fall forever. He tried to move, but could only gaze upon the titan and his wives. But they had changed. Their repetitious circles around one another abruptly changed course, and he knew of what he had been staring. In place of a family of stars, a pale and wretched face with long teeth and nostrils had formed. It was Meheret. Worse than Meheret. His eyes were like a chickens, perfectly round and sickly yellow fringed with rough red skin. In place of lips, fleshy and plump, they were thin like the semblance of a mouth that loosely hung over a gaping black hole. Gone was the might of the titans as all of everything had become this horrid face.

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Jerrod tried to scream, really scream, but found he could do no more than moan feebly. But it was not coming from his own breath, rather from around him. The whole of the universe had been in terror at the sight. And he could feel his lungs fill with air, but naught more than a tussle escaped him. And a thought had come to him, like a pure white hand breaking into his course. This is a dream. You have to wake! He felt as though he was pulling a boot sunk deep into the mud. With a final tug he relinquished himself from the horror and rose in his bed.

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