The Wailing Abyss

Dark.

Pitch darkness.

A sense of loss.

"Just how long have I been falling?"

Ryuk couldn't tell.

Seconds?

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

Months?

Years?

Time was slipping through his fingers, stretching and twisting like dying embers in the wind.

He reached out, but there was nothing.

No ground, no walls, no sky.

Only the abyss, seemingly swallowing him whole.

But one thing kept him anchored, grounding him to reality—his heartbeat.

A steady thump that grew weaker with each passing moment.

The cold wasn't just physical; it gnawed at something deeper, something beyond flesh.

Like the kind of cold that seeps into the cracks of the soul and hollows it out from within.

And what was worse?

The Silence.

It was maddening.

Not the quiet of solitude he had felt in the forest, but the absence of his own existence itself.