Into the Hollow

Liam fell.

The abyss swallowed him whole, the vortex's spiraling tendrils of light and darkness twisting around his form, pulling him deeper into the unknown, the air warping with a faint hum that echoed in his ears. The hum from his chest surged, vibrating through his ribs, syncing with the pulse of the void itself, a rhythm that made his teeth ache, his vision blurring with streaks of color—blinding whites, deep blacks—stinging his eyes. He clenched his teeth, his fingers tightening around Shadowfang's hilt, the blade's energy flickering, struggling against the pull, its hum a desperate anchor, the mist lashing at his skin, cold and biting, tendrils coiling around his arms, pulling, resisting his fall, raising goosebumps along his neck.

The Hollow Mirrors followed, their distorted forms blurring into the chaos, their pale eyes glowing through the swirl, their laughter a warped echo of his own, the sound twisting into something sinister, reverberating off unseen walls, the air thick with their presence. His heart pounded, his lungs burning, his muscles screaming from the climb, the ache settling deep in his bones, his vest torn and soaked with sweat and mist, his breath coming in short gasps.

[System Alert: Dimensional Sync Decaying] 

[Stability Unverified] 

[Unknown Influence Detected] 

*A sharp static buzz echoed in his skull, a cold shiver running down his spine, a brief pulse of heat crawling across his face.*

He wasn't sure how long he fell—seconds? Minutes?—the vortex stretching time, the air growing thick, the hum syncing with his pulse, a rhythm inside him pulling him deeper, the mist pressing against his chest, the cold seeping into his joints, his hands trembling on Shadowfang, the blade's vibration steadying his grip. "Great, a free dive into hell," he muttered, a dark chuckle escaping, breaking the tension, his voice rough, his throat dry from the strain.

Then—impact.

The ground hit him hard, the force rippling through his bones, a jolt shooting through his ribs, but the surface beneath him wasn't solid. It was neither stone nor mist, but something in between—shifting, breathing, alive, the texture slick under his palms, pulsing faintly with a rhythm of its own. He gasped, rolling onto his hands and knees, his breath coming in ragged gulps, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue, blood flecking his lips, his hands scraping the strange ground, cold and damp, the mist swirling around him, whispering half-formed words, the air crackling with static, a faint drip of water echoing in the distance.

He pushed himself up, knees weak, his legs burning, the exhaustion weighing him down, his chest heaving as he scanned his surroundings, his vest torn, his hands slick with sweat and grime. The air thickened, suffocating, pressing against his skin like unseen hands, the darkness stretching in all directions, a suffocating void that carried no echoes, no sound beyond his own heartbeat, the silence heavy, making his ears pop.

A whisper slithered through the silence.

**"You have gone too far."**

Liam's grip on Shadowfang tightened, his knuckles white, his muscles coiled with tension, his breath hitching, a cold shiver running down his spine. The whisper wasn't a voice—it was a presence, sinking into his thoughts, threading through his mind like an invasive force, a foreign entity prodding at the edges of his consciousness, a burning sensation prickling his veins, his vision blurring with fleeting images. He gritted his teeth, forcing it back, a flicker of his own willpower pushing against the unseen weight, his hands trembling, his legs wobbling under the strain.

[System Response: Mental Barrier Reinforced] 

[Interference Suppressed: 64%] 

A cold wave rolled through his body, settling in his chest, the buzz receding slightly, a faint ache lingering.

He forced himself to stand, his boots sinking slightly into the strange, pulsating surface, the cold biting through the fabric, his muscles protesting with every move, his breath uneven. The mist around him shifted, coiling into vague, half-formed figures, their outlines distorting as if they couldn't fully exist in this space, their presence a chill against his skin, the air crackling with energy. The Hollow Mirrors were gone. Or perhaps—no longer needed, the void itself taking their place, the ground trembling faintly beneath him.

The mist stirred, then revealed a structure in the distance—an obsidian monolith piercing the void, its surface etched with shifting glyphs, pulsating with a slow, rhythmic glow that cast eerie shadows across the cavern, the light reflecting in his wide eyes. A door stood at its base, impossibly tall, its edges flickering between reality and something else entirely, the very concept of an entrance unraveling and reforming with each passing second, a hum rising from it, syncing with his pulse, the air warping around its frame.

Liam exhaled sharply, forcing his exhaustion aside, his legs heavy but steady as he took a step forward, the ground rippling under his boot, the mist reacting, thickening when he slowed, the tendrils brushing his legs like wet hands. The moment his foot landed, the whispers surged, a chorus of voices layered upon one another, a thousand fractured echoes speaking in tandem, their words twisting, breaking, reforming, the sound slithering into his ears, raising goosebumps, the air crackling with static.

"What are you?"

The question slammed into him, a force rather than a query, an expectation that demanded an answer, sinking into his mind, a burning sensation spreading through his chest, his vision blurring with memories flickering at the edges—moments that didn't belong to him, reflections that were not his own, faces of Mara, Varik, Elise, twisting into something alien. His body shuddered, the weight of the question pressing against his core, threatening to strip him down to nothing, his hands shaking, his knees buckling slightly, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck.

Liam growled, his jaw clenching, his heartbeat thundering against the pull, his breath ragged, his hands gripping Shadowfang tighter, the blade's hum a lifeline. "I'm still here. That's enough," he muttered, his voice low, defiant, a dark chuckle escaping, his eyes narrowing, his resolve hardening despite the ache in his limbs.

The pressure hesitated. Just for a moment, the whispers pausing, the mist recoiling slightly, the ground trembling beneath him.

Then the door opened.

The void did not welcome him.

It acknowledged him.

And that was far, far worse.

The monolith pulsed, the glyphs flaring brighter, the hum intensifying, syncing with his heartbeat, a pulse inside him pulling him toward the door, the air thickening, the mist parting to reveal a dark passage beyond, the shadows shifting, a faint whisper of his own voice echoing, "Keep going," stretching just a fraction too long. He wiped sweat from his brow, smearing grime, his vest damp, his legs steadying as he took another step, the ground rippling, the mist coiling around his boots, the cold biting deeper.

The door loomed, its edges flickering, the passage dark and endless, the hum from the vortex lingering, a weight in his chest, the void watching, waiting, the silence broken only by the faint drip of water, the air crackling with unseen energy. He paused, heart thudding, his breath uneven, the exhaustion dragging at him, his hands slick on Shadowfang's hilt, the blade's hum a faint comfort against the unknown.

The shadows spoke his name, and the ground cracked, a fissure splitting the surface beneath him, the monolith trembling, the glyphs pulsing one last time, the hum fading into a distant echo, pulling him toward the abyss.