Lucavion's grip tightened around the artifact as the world around him dimmed. The flickering lantern light bled into shadows, stretching unnaturally, devouring the room in creeping darkness. The weight of his own body grew distant, like his limbs were being submerged in thick, unyielding tar.
Down.
And down.
And down.
His breath slowed, each inhale growing heavier, more labored. The edges of his consciousness blurred, thoughts fraying like threads unraveling from an old tapestry.
'So this is how it works, huh?'
The artifact pulsed against his palm, its crystalline core shifting with the colors of a dying ember. A slow, rhythmic beat—like a second heartbeat—syncing with his own.
