Now you find yourself within a large, approximately circular chamber. In the centre of the room sits a raised basin. It is overflowing with blood, which constantly bubbles over the edges in long streams and traces crimson lines over the floor. You realize the basin is some sort of perverse scrying-tool. The air in here is hot and oppressive, and illumination is provided by more of the foul skull-torches you saw in the hallway.

Around the basin stand five thrones. Each is made of a frame of bloodied bone, and stretched over this frame is the bleeding, quivering flesh of the damned. And upon these thrones sit the Shadowlords.

Each of these beings is terrifying to behold. They are huge, but the aura of horrific majesty that surrounds them makes them seem taller still. Their skin is a deep, ashen grey, and each sports a pair of huge bat-like wings upon his back. Their faces are human yet inhuman, twisted with evil, and their hairless heads are crowned by two pairs of sweeping horns. Their glowing red eyes burn with hatred and pure malevolence, and when they look up from the pool of blood to give you fanged smirk, you feel as though their hatred alone would tear your heart from your chest and burn it to cinders.

They turn their eyes to Soul Reaver, who is standing behind you, and for a moment give a strangely humble bow, before they give a dismissive snort and turn back to their conversation in their own cruel, stilted tongue.

You can ask Soul Reaver to share his words with you, or retreat from this chamber and back into the hallway. If you have had enough of Inferno entirely, then you can leave for the Warp.