The world vanished in one gulp. No sky. No Pane. No fire.
Only silence.
Ren opened his eyes and found himself floating in a space too vast to comprehend. There was no ground beneath him—only layers upon layers of memories, translucent and swirling like veils of smoke. Some were dim and whispering; others screamed so loudly that they distorted the air.
It wasn't just darkness. It was consumption made into a world.
The belly of the Sin-Eater was not flesh but an ocean of guilt, shame, and fractured recollections. It smelled of rusted blood and burned incense, like the remnants of a thousand funerals pressed into one.
Ren's flame flickered weakly at his fingertips. Even fire seemed to suffocate here, its light snuffed out by the weight of voices pressing down from all sides.
"Ren…" Aelira's voice came faintly. She hovered nearby, her body trembling as her wings tried to stay alight. Her flame was dimmer too, every feather threatening to collapse into cinders.
