There's a certain kind of eerie silence that settles in places like this. The kind that gnaws at your nerves, making you second-guess every step.
I stood before the towering obsidian gateway, its smooth, black surface reflecting the dim, greenish glow of the ethereal fog that swirled around it.
The air tasted like static, crackling with the promise of something big—and more than a little terrifying.
Behind me, the world was an endless stretch of misty cliffs and unknown terrain. Ahead, the gateway loomed like the entrance to a place where no one had ever returned the same.
The weight of my purpose pressed against my chest, heavier than it had been since I first set foot in Mythica.
The final trial. The Oblivion Trials.
A faceless specter materialized before me. It wasn't the kind of "faceless" that makes you shiver with dread.
No, this was the kind of faceless that filled you with the sense of something cold, unknowable, and timeless.
