Weavers of the Void

The oppressive weight of the abyss clung to Daniel's body like unseen shackles as he and Mira navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the Citadel. The stone walls, ancient and inscrutable, pulsed with a slow, almost imperceptible rhythm—as if they were alive, whispering in a language older than time itself. Though the immediate threat had passed, the presence of the abyss lingered in every shadow and every echo, receding only to watch and wait with hungry patience.

Mira led the way, every sense alert. Her golden eyes scanned the shifting symbols etched into the cold stone, while her ears twitched at the slightest disturbance in the silence. Behind her, Daniel's thoughts churned like a storm; fragmented visions and half-heard voices from the void haunted his every step. The abyss's words, once a mere murmur in his mind, now resonated with searing clarity:

You are not whole.