Alex stood at the precipice of Lumina's central plaza, the wind whipping her hair into a frenzy. Below, the city bustled with a newfound vibrancy, a testament to the fragile peace that had blossomed since the alliance with Zalthur. Yet, amidst the joyous energy, a sliver of unease gnawed at him. The whispers, once a constant, oppressive hum, had receded, leaving behind an unsettling silence.
It was a silence that spoke volumes. It spoke of a realm teetering on the brink, the entity within it adrift in a sea of its own despair. The whispers, though instruments of negativity, had also been a twisted form of communication, a desperate plea for acknowledgment. Now, with that connection severed, the unseen realm thrummed with a chilling emptiness.
Alex closed his eyes, focusing on the faint echo that still resonated within him – the echo of the entity's sorrow. It wasn't a monstrous roar, but a whimper, a heartbroken cry that sent a tremor through his soul.
