But Julian felt a cold dread creeping up his spine.
The air in the underground theater was thick with the scent of beeswax and old velvet. A hush fell over the small, invited audience as the heavy iron doors groaned shut. They hadn't come for a traditional play; they had come for Lady Britt’s latest "Scheinschlachtung"—the Mock Slaughter.
Here is a story exploring the atmosphere of such a performance: