Peter trailed behind Kalima, his eyes scanning the desolate landscape. The world seemed to stretch on forever, devoid of life, structure, and color.
The sky above was a dull white, like a canvas waiting for a painter's brushstrokes. No sun shone bright, yet the air was filled with a soft, ethereal light that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once. The wind was nonexistent, and the temperature was eerily neutral, as if the world was suspended in a state of perpetual equilibrium.
"Kalima, did I hear you right?" Peter asked, his voice laced with skepticism. "You said this world is a part of my mind?"
Kalima nodded, his black fur glistening in the strange light. <
Peter's eyes narrowed, his mind struggling to comprehend the concept. "That's quite intriguing," he said, his tone measured.
