The abyss howled like a living storm. Chains raked across the graveyard of titans, each link glowing as if forged in a furnace beyond time. The envoy's true face—half Lin's, half abyss—hovered before him, grinning as though his terror was a coronation in itself.
The crown of chains descended inch by inch, the jagged points shimmering with sickly light. Every bone in the graveyard shuddered, pulled toward the throne as though gravity itself bent to the envoy's will.
Lin's knees buckled. The marrow within him surged, writhing like a nest of serpents beneath his skin. His blood screamed in recognition, a thousand voices whispering in unison: kneel. submit. become.
"No," Lin gasped, his hands clawing at the ground, at his own chest, anything to anchor himself. His nails cracked against the stone, his skin split under the pressure, but he refused to kneel.
