"How can this be happening..."
Elolo panicked, clutching the octopus plushie tightly in one arm while flailing wildly with the other, groping for something to steady herself.
But there was nothing. Nothing at all...
Elolo remembered the shape of the hallway, the kinds of flowers and paintings that adorned it. Even without seeing, she could sense where they should be, even recalling the patterns in the art and the textures on the vases.
Under the meticulous care of the famously strict and rigid Miss Beleda, the house hadn't changed at all in sixteen years. Even the angles of the tables, chairs, and benches were maintained with unwavering precision.
But now, Elolo felt that all that was left of her home was this viscous, ink-like darkness...
She abandoned her plan and immediately turned, wanting to flee back to her room.
But the one oil lamp at the other end of the hallway, the only source of light, was now completely gone...
