The Shifting Hall
Darkness swallowed Aelir and Lira whole.
Not the kind of darkness that follows the setting sun, nor even the black of moonless nights — this was a deeper void, a hollowing of the world itself, where even the memory of light flickered and died.
They stood side by side, hearts pounding, breaths shallow.
The ground beneath their boots was no longer stone, but something softer — something alive — that seemed to pulse with each beat of their own racing hearts.
"Aelir," Lira said, her voice barely more than a breath.
"I know," he whispered.
Though he could not see her, he could feel her presence, a bright spark against the crushing weight of the unseen. Without thinking, he reached for her hand and found it, their fingers threading together in silent defiance.
Aelir clo
