The darkness closed in around Cyrus, isolating him from the world, and it was as if the walls of the temple had become an impenetrable abyss. He reached out his hand but could see nothing, not even his own fingers. A disorienting sense of unease and isolation enveloped him, as though he had been cut off from all that was familiar and real.
In the midst of this all-encompassing darkness, he felt a profound sense of vulnerability, as though he had been thrust into a void where the boundaries of his existence dissolved. Each movement, each breath, seemed to resonate in the cavernous blackness, a stark reminder of his isolation within this inexplicable obscurity.
Within the enveloping darkness, a profound sense of dread settled over Cyrus. He could feel the heavy weight of the unknown pressing down upon him, but he could see nothing to make sense of it. Then, suddenly, a monstrous, twisting form began to materialize from the inky void.
