The sensation of stepping into the In Between was not unlike drowning in ink. Julian felt his physical form unraveling as if the very atoms that composed his body were being unstitched by an invisible hand. He landed on a surface that felt like liquid glass, cold and utterly devoid of friction. The silence here was absolute, a heavy presence that pressed against his eardrums until they hummed with the effort of trying to catch a sound that did not exist.
He stood up, his boots leaving no footprints on the mirror-like ground. Above him, there was no sky, only a swirling vortex of monochromatic clouds that shifted in slow, rhythmic pulses. This was the graveyard of possibilities, the space between breaths where time had forgotten how to flow. The black shard Silas had given him vibrated in
