A few days prior, when Einar was captured and taken to the castle by the knights and the old noble, he had lost consciousness.
To be blunt, he had simply fallen asleep. Whether it was exhaustion or a subconscious defense mechanism, his mind had shut down as the knights hauled him away.
Through the rugged terrain and the wild plains stretching before the crescent pond, the carriage rattled onward.
The hooves of the horses thundered against the dirt, dragging their burden ever forward. The night sky stretched endlessly above them, a void of muted stars and swirling shadows.
After what felt like an eternity, the carriage slowed with the neigh of horses. They had arrived.
Before them loomed a pitch-black veil, utterly still. It was as though reality had been torn apart, leaving only a seamless void. Yet, when one neared it, a strange vibration resonated in the air, as though the darkness itself pulsed with silent hunger.
