Iris stood.
No… she floated.
There was no ground beneath her feet, no horizon to give shape to the world. Around her stretched a void so vast it was beyond comprehension—an infinite expanse where light and darkness blurred into one. And within that void, countless shards of obsidian drifted, suspended in silence.
Each shard shimmered faintly, catching some unseen light, fragments of a shattered reality stretching as far as her eyes could see.
Her gaze moved slowly from one piece to another, the way a prisoner might trace the bars of a cell.
"I… am dead," she said at last. Her voice didn't tremble. It carried more acceptance than fear.
A second voice answered her, deep and certain.
"No… well, yes, but technically not."
Her head snapped toward the sound. Her eyes scanned the shards, the endless dark. And then she saw him—floating just behind her, as though he'd been there all along.
"You…" she muttered.
