It was like a dream.
Bastopher drifted through an abyss of ink and silence, weightless and disoriented. He cast his gaze at every corner of the blackness, but everywhere was just as dark and obscure as the other.
'What is this?' he pondered, his mind struggling to grasp the boundaries of this strange, unending void.
Beneath his feet, there was no ground, no air to breathe — just an overwhelming darkness that engulfed everything around him.
'Am I dreaming?' he thought. It certainly seemed so. The darkness seemed to have a presence, a thickness that pressed against him, forcing him to question his own existence in this shadowy limbo.
There was no answer to his earlier question, only the soft hum of the obscure void — a low, resonant sound that pulsed like a distant heartbeat, too faint to be real but impossible to ignore.
'Did father have something to do with this? Is this punishment for last night?'
