Two forces coursed through Zeharra's veins: matter and essence.
One kept the body standing; the other gave meaning to the soul.
But when balance was lost, these two forces began to poison each other.
And what emerged from that collapse was given a name:
Void.
Void was neither alive nor dead.
The fears, regrets, anger, and sorrows that people repressed had gradually accumulated in the Spirit Realm;
they mixed and rotted together.
This decay didn't just target emotions — it attacked existence itself.
It drained the color from every soul it touched, turning them into a gray nothingness.
And now, in scattered corners of Zeharra, this darkness was slowly growing.
Almagh was one of the places where the Void was felt most intensely.
The air in the city was heavy; even the wind seemed to choke as it tried to breathe.
The echoes of souls had vanished, leaving only the silence that drifted between stones.
In certain streets, on the walls of empty buildings, there would be a faint, invisible tremor —
as if the screams of souls had been etched into the stone itself.
Lian had come to Almagh not to destroy the Void, but to understand it.
To defeat it, he first needed to know what it truly was.
The rumors spreading across the rest of Zeharra were inconsistent:
Some believed the Void was a being, others said it was a disease.
But Lian knew — the Void was the echo of a thought.