Sigh.
Thud. Thud.
The heavy sound of footsteps echoed through the tense and silent area, while his breathing overlapped with each step and created a dreadful rhythm that refused to fade.
Walking across the unnaturally smooth surface, Thoren wore a grave expression as his eyes scanned every direction with sharp vigilance.
He could hear the sound of heartbeats all around him, and each pulse seemed to echo through the empty space like a haunting drum.
It felt as if dozens of versions of himself existed at once, each one breathing, stepping, and thinking in perfect synchronization with him.
Yet no matter where he looked, he found nothing but empty space staring back at him.
He tried to soften his footsteps and reduce the sound, but the effort proved completely futile as whatever was mimicking him replicated even the smallest detail.
Every shift of weight and every breath he took was echoed perfectly, leaving no difference between the original and the imitation.
