As soon as I touched something elusive inside Narcissus' soul, my whole consciousness was transported into somewhere else. As if I had just triggered a trap. Or perhaps, a doorbell that made the owner of the soul aware of my existence.
It was a room of mathematics, a room filled with theorems—an impossible realm that defied all logic, a place where the boundaries of reality had warped beyond recognition.
Concepts—abstract thoughts and ideas—had taken on impossible forms, shapes that stretched and folded into dimensions the mind could not grasp.
Time flowed like liquid, seeping through cracks in space, while gravity bent in directions that should not have existed.
Colors had bled into sounds, and emotions manifested as living, writhing entities that coiled and twisted in the air, their forms flickering between visibility and the void.
