Isabelle's voice.
It was a gentle whispering as if she were speaking right beside Angor's ears.
But when Angor listened carefully, he realized he could understand none of it.
He did notice, however, that upon hearing each of Isabelle's words, he would feel a little tickle crawling from his head to his toe like someone had been stroking him with a soft feather.
It was like… the strange language was meant for communicating with his soul.
There were a total of 33 notes in Isabelle's chant. She repeated twice and finally stopped.
Angor tried to figure out what all these meant. Did it have something to do with the darkness?
He kept walking and never found any light. He wasn't even sure if he should move at all.
Absolute darkness could easily turn someone mad if it persisted for too long. Added by the fact that he knew little of where he was going, Angor only wanted to scream loudly to vent out his pressure.
