Pop.
Each orb dimmed and died, one by one, until none remained, plunging them into darkness, complete and unnatural, the void swallowing even the faintest glimmers.
Azareel couldn't see the women anymore, not until Virelya stepped closer, her golden eyes a faint glimmer in the dark, her breath audible, steady but tight.
"That… wasn't natural," she whispered, her voice sharp with unease.
"It wasn't the Abyss," Sylvara added, her voice hollow, trembling as she clutched her shriveled vines. "It came from him."
Nyxsha growled lowly, her tail lashing somewhere in the dark, her golden eyes blazing faintly.
"This is weird... doesn't feel like anything before," she said, her voice thick with suspicion. "Even the Abyss didn't touch my senses like this."
The tension thickened, a presence pressing in on all sides—formless, soundless, but heavy, suffocating, and angry, like a storm held in check.
