In the depths of unconsciousness, Ambrose found himself once again suspended in the familiar murky void. The darkness here felt thicker than before, almost viscous, as if it were trying to pull him deeper into its endless depths. As he drifted aimlessly through the oppressive gloom, his thoughts wandered to his last conscious moments – the searing pain of being impaled alongside Hualing, then... nothing.
Time held no meaning in this place. He could have been here for minutes or days; there was no way to tell. Each time he visited this void, he noticed a disturbing pattern – he started deeper than before, the journey to the surface growing progressively longer. A troubling thought crossed his mind: would there come a time when he'd sink so deep that the return journey would become impossible? The idea sent a chill through his incorporeal form.
