There was no sound in the dark, no air, no body, no shape.
Only Darius.
He drifted, weightless and empty, his thoughts disjointed, unanchored. Time didn't move here. Neither did he.
Did I die?
The question circled endlessly, like a whisper caught in a void. He couldn't remember what pain felt like anymore, only the echo of it, the punch of Lucien's mana tearing through his own, the tremble in the earth, the roar of the crowd as he fell.
I trained. I prepared. I learned everything I could.
So why wasn't it enough?
The silence was heavy. Pressing in from all directions. He didn't float anymore, he was sinking. He hadn't realized it at first, but now his descent was clear. The void seemed to stretch downward, bottomless, hungry.
Shadowy strands, like ink spilled in water, began slithering up around him. Not fast, not harsh, gentle in the cruelest way. A mockery of comfort. They brushed along his limbs, his throat, his chest.
