Kivas blinked into haze, her thoughts drifting like smoke in a vast, empty expanse.
The world around her was a flawless white room, edges crisp and visible where walls met floor and ceiling in perfect, unyielding geometry—no seams, no shadows, just an infinite suggestion of containment that stretched to a horizon she could almost touch.
"What… is this…?"
Her mind felt... lighter, unmoored, as if a vital thread had been snipped clean.
For a disorienting second, she reached inward, probing the familiar hum of her soul, and found only echoes—faint, resonant, but incomplete.
Severance.
The word surfaced unbidden, a clinical anchor amid the fog.
Of course, the ritual's aftershock, her essence decoupled from the vessel, adrift in this limbo of Fathomi's indecision.
In a way, this was the actualization of that aftermath, made into an entirely new reality.
She floated upright, or perhaps walked, the distinction blurred in the weightless air.
