A Hunger Without End
Ezra plunged into the void.
For a split second, there was nothing.
No wind. No weight.
Just the cold grip of emptiness swallowing him whole.
Then—
Pain.
A sudden, violent impact rattled his bones, like he'd been slammed against something that wasn't quite solid.
He gasped, his breath torn away as he landed— not on stone, not on ground, but something shifting, pulsing beneath him.
Ezra groaned, blinking against the suffocating darkness.
Everything felt… wrong.
His body was heavy , but his skin crawled with the feeling of being watched.
No— not watched.
Measured.
The whispers were back.
"He fell."
"Does he know?"
"He carries it. But does it carry him?"
Ezra exhaled slowly, pushing himself upright. "Alright. Enough of that. If you're going to kill me, just get it over with."
The voices laughed.
Not cruelly.
Not kindly.
Just… knowing.
Ezra scanned his surroundings, but there was nothing to see. No walls, no floor, no sky. Just a vast expanse of blackness , stretching forever.
And yet— he wasn't floating.
The surface beneath him shifted with his movement, like a living thing.
A deep, distant pulse echoed through the void.
And the Sigil on his chest—
It burned.
Ezra gritted his teeth as a familiar, suffocating hunger coiled through his ribs.
Not like before.
This was worse.
Deeper.
Like something here was calling to it.
Or worse— answering it.
The darkness stirred.
Something moved.
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
Just… movement.
A presence shifting through the black.
Ezra's muscles tensed. "What are you?"
The whispers didn't answer.
But the hunger did.
It surged through his veins, his vision sharpening as a new feeling crawled into his mind—
A knowledge.
A voice not his own.
"You are not ready."
Ezra's breath hitched. "Ready for what?"
The whispers chuckled.
And the world shattered.