Despite the wave of hope and renewal sweeping the world, shadows still lingered. The void, though dormant, had not been eradicated. Its tendrils, like unseen roots, remained entwined with the fabric of reality, waiting for an opportunity to resurface, to exploit any weakness, any crack in the defenses of light.
Anya, with her heightened sensitivity to the subtle currents of energy, felt the first tremors of the void's resurgence. It was a faint whisper at first, a subtle disharmony in the symphony of light, a discordant note in the melody of renewal. But it grew stronger with each passing day, a growing darkness threatening to eclipse the burgeoning light.