The air was heavy as he moved through the narrow alleys of the village. No familiar scent—no smoke, no dust, no decay. The air was empty of memory, as if it were new to this place, as if it didn't belong here. And with every step, his heart tightened slowly… not from direct fear, but from that invisible distance between him and everything around him.
The walls on either side seemed alive, yet exhausted. Built from stones with no discernible color—no nameable hue, just an unstable blend of pale gray and weathered bone. The wood used here wasn't real wood, more like the bones of trees that had died centuries ago, swept away from the world only to return… deformed.
