The figure before them stood silent, its form indistinct, as if it were made from the very shadows that twisted around them. The air thickened with the presence of something ancient and unfathomable, a weight pressing down on Kael's chest, making it harder to breathe. The dark figure was the heart of the void, and it radiated a power that seemed to distort the very space around it.
Kael's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword, the familiar weight grounding him. He could feel the pulse of the void beating in time with his own heart, and it made him sick to his stomach. It was as if the very air in this place was alive, sentient, feeding off his fears, his doubts. He had never been more aware of how fragile human resolve could be in the face of something this incomprehensible.
