The void was not merely dark—it was the absence of everything.
Lilith and Mia awoke in the deepest recess of theDark Moon Citadel, a place the vampire lord called the Abyss Chamber. No light penetrated here; the walls were not stone but living shadow, writhing like smoke trapped in glass, absorbing sound and hope alike. The air was thick, heavy with the metallic tang of old blood and the cloying sweetness of decay, as if the chamber fed on despair. Cold seeped from the floor—black marble veined with crimson that pulsed faintly, like arteries beneath skin. Chains of void-essence dangled from the ceiling, swaying without wind, their links whispering faint screams of past prisoners.
Mia regained consciousness first, a splitting headache assaulting her like a rogue’s claws raking her skull.
