He began walking toward her.
His boots struck the blood-slick floor with deliberate, echoing clangs. Each step was deliberate, echoing ominously in the cavernous cell. Luxana stood frozen in place, her body trembling as if caught in an invisible vice. Her mind was blank—speechless and thoughtless—unable to comprehend what was unfolding before her.
The air thickened with static, and the black-and-white glowing circle beneath them pulsed like a heartbeat, casting jagged shadows across Cillian's face.
Cillian's aquamarine eyes locked onto hers as he closed the distance between them. They burned with an intensity that made it impossible for her to look away, even as fear clawed at her chest.
He stopped inches from her.
When he finally stood before her, towering over her frail form, he raised his right hand slowly—almost tenderly—and brought it centimeters from her forehead. His fingers hovered there for a moment before a small black circle materialized, spinning rapidly in midair just before Luxana's face.
Slowly, he raised his right hand. A smaller black circle materialized before her forehead, its edges crackling with volatile energy.
The glow reflected in Luxana's wide, unblinking eyes—zircon irises dilated with terror.
"Breathe," he murmured, his voice a venomous purr.
The larger black-and-white glowing circle beneath their feet remained steady but pulsed faintly in rhythm with this new manifestation.
Then it happened.
Black light began to glow ominously from the smaller circle, its edges crackling with volatile energy that sent faint tremors through the ground beneath them.
Luxana inhaled sharply—an involuntary ragged gasp —and the black light surged as it began to collapse as if all strength had been drained from her body. Her knees buckled and gave out entirely, but before she could hit the ground, Cillian caught her effortlessly, one arm hooking around her waist as she collapsed. Her unconscious form felt weightless against him as he adjusted his grip carefully.
His other hand gripped her jaw, as he tilted her face upward forcing her face up. His thumb brushed over her bloodied lips, smearing crimson across her pallid skin,so that her blood-streaked features were bathed in the eerie glow of the black light still radiating from his hand.
For a moment, Cillian simply stared at her—a complex storm of emotions flashing across his face.
Finally, he spoke.
"Now then," he hissed softly, his voice dripping with venomous intent yet laced with an almost mocking tenderness. His lips curled into a menacing smile that revealed too many teeth—a predator savoring its prey, leaning so close his breath ghosted over her ear.
"Shall we rewrite this story?" he purred darkly, tilting his head slightly as if studying her unconscious features with cruel fascination.
His aquamarine eyes narrowed dangerously as he leaned closer, their glow intensifying under the flickering light of the dungeon torches. His lips curled into a predatory smile—all teeth, no warmth—as the glowing circle beneath them began to rotate faster, faster, its light swallowing the dungeon whole.
"My beloved princess." He whispered mockingly, each word dripping with both derision and possession.
The word dripped with mockery and something darker—a promise of violence, of reckoning. Luxana's vision blurred, her mind fracturing under the weight of a memory she couldn't grasp. The last thing she saw before darkness took her was the cold gleam of his eyes—aquamarine burning like cursed fire—and the faintest flicker of a scar beneath his collar, shaped like a shattered crown.
The black circle beneath them pulsed one final time before collapsing inward on itself, leaving only silence—and the lingering scent of blood—in its wake.
P.S. Play this audio in the background:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1OKFNI8ocr29Lonsi9BjOWHzAbYDt_vdJ/view?usp=sharing
P.S.S The language used, is Sango. Please translate to understand better.
𝔐𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔣 ℜ𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔰
╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮
𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓹𝓽𝓱𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭. 𝓑𝓮𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼; 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮. 𝓔𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓻𝓾𝓶𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓽𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓮, 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓷 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼.
𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓰𝓪𝔃𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓼𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼. 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓶𝓪𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓽 𝓪 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓮, 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝔂 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓵𝓾𝓻𝓴𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮.
𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝔀𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓪𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝔂𝓼𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓼. 𝓣𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮; 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓪 𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓵 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓸𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱. 𝓞𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓵𝓮𝓭𝓰𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴.
𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓮, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓶, 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮.
╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
"𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔏𝔲𝔵𝔞𝔫𝔞? 𝔚𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔯?"
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
┏━━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━━┓
ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯: '𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩.' 𝔅𝔢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔟𝔢 𝔞 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔢. ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔠𝔱, 𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫. 𝔗𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢; 𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔟𝔶𝔰𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔢𝔵𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔟𝔰𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔶.
┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛
"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔶 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡."
"ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔠𝔯𝔲𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪?"
╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮
𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓼, 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓭. 𝓑𝓮𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓭; 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷. 𝓔𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝔂, 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓷 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓫𝔂𝓼𝓼.
𝓖𝓪𝔃𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓵𝔂, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓶𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓼𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓶. 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓶𝓪𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓼𝓽, 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓾𝓷𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓮𝔁𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓴𝓸𝓷, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓵𝓾𝓻𝓴𝓼 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮.
𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷: 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓶𝓪 𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓼. 𝓣𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽; 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓪 𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓵 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓮𝓵𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱. 𝓞𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓵𝓮𝓭𝓰𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽.
𝓓𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓸 𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓶, 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰.
╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
"𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔇𝔲𝔨𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔢? 𝔚𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪?"
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
┏━━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━━┓
ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, 𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡: '𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔞 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔢.' 𝔅𝔢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔶𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔞 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔤𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔰, 𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔢𝔵𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢. 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔢 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔟𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔲𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶.
┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛
"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔶 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡."
"ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔠𝔯𝔲𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪?"
╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗
"ꪶꪮᥴᛕᦓ ꪖꪀᦔ ᛕꫀꪗᦓ. ᭙꠸ꪶꪶ ꪻꫝꫀꪗ ᥇ꫀ ꪖ᥇ꪶꫀ ꪻꪮ ꪮρꫀꪀ ꪻꫝꫀ ᦔꪮꪮ᥅?"
"᭙ꫝꪖꪻ ꪊꪀꪶꪊᥴᛕꪗ ᥴꫝ꠸ꪶᦔ᥅ꫀꪀ."
"ꪑ꠸ꪀᦓꪖꪀ, ᭙꠸ꪶꪶ ꪻꫝꫀꪗ ᦓꫀꫀ ꠸ꪻ ᥴꪮꪑ꠸ꪀᧁ?"
"᭙ꫝꪖꪻ ꪊꪀꪶꪊᥴᛕꪗ ᥴꫝ꠸ꪶᦔ᥅ꫀꪀ."
"᭙꠸ꪶꪶ ꪻꫝꫀ ᛕꫀꪗ ᛕꫀꫀρ ꪻꫝꫀ ꪶꪮᥴᛕ? ꪮ᥅ ꪮρꫀꪀ ꪻꫝꫀ ꪶꪮᥴᛕ?"
"᭙ꫝꪖꪻ ꪖ ᦔ᥅ꫀꪖᦔᠻꪊꪶ ꫀꪀᦔ꠸ꪀᧁ."
"᭙꠸ꪶꪶ ꪻꫝꫀ ᧁꪮᦔᦓ ꪖᥴᥴꫀρꪻ ꪻꫝꫀꪑ?"
"᭙ꫝꪖꪻ ꪖ ᦔ᥅ꫀꪖᦔᠻꪊꪶ ꫀꪀᦔ꠸ꪀᧁ."
"᭙꠸ꪶꪶ ꪻꫝꫀꪗ ᦓꪊ᥅ꪜ꠸ꪜꫀ?"
"ꪀꪮ ꪮꪀꫀ ᛕꪀꪮ᭙ᦓ."
╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝
-ʍɨռֆǟռ; ȶɦɛ ɦǟʟʟ օʄ ȶɦɛ ɛʍքʏʀɛǟռ ɨռɖօʍɨȶǟɮʟɛ ǟֆֆɛʍɮʟʏ-
╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗
"𝒪𝒽 𝓂𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉." "𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝓉𝒽𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔." "𝒪𝒽 𝓂𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇." "𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔." "𝒪𝒽 𝓂𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝒪𝒪𝑅 𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃." "𝑀𝒶𝓎 𝑀𝑒𝓇𝒸𝓎 𝐵𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂." "𝒪𝒽 𝓂𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔." "𝑀𝒶𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝐵𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂." "𝒪𝒽 𝓂𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔." "𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔." "𝐸𝒩𝒟𝒮 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔." "𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒻𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔."
╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝
╔═.✾. ════╗
"Wᵢₗₗ ₜₕₑy ₛᵤccₑₑd?"
"Wᵢₗₗ ₜₕₑy bₑ bₗₑₛₛₑd?"
"Wᵢₗₗ ₜₕₑy cₑₐₛₑ?"
╚════.✾. ═╝
╔══"✧"══╗
ꍏꈤꁴꍏꉣꍏ. ꓄ꃅꍟꌩ'ꋪꍟ ꃅꍟꋪꍟ.
ꈤꁴꍏꉣꍏ. ꃅꍟ'ꌗ ꃅꍟꋪꍟ.
ꅏꀤ꒒꒒ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꀘꍟꌩ ꀎꈤ꒒ꂦꉓꀘ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꒒ꂦꉓꀘ?
ꂦꋪ, ꅏꀤ꒒꒒ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꒒ꂦꉓꀘ ꀎꈤꌃꀤꈤꀸ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꀘꍟꌩ?
╚══"✧"══╝
In the depths of an impossible realm, where reality bends to the whims of cosmic forces, an ethereal amphitheater unfurled its grandeur. This was no mere structure, but a living, breathing entity of its own, pulsing with the very essence of time and space. Tier upon tier of ornate compartments spiraled upwards in dizzying patterns, their surfaces a mesmerizing blend of burnished copper, aged wood, and materials unknown to mortal eyes.
Each compartment was a world unto itself, adorned with intricate clockwork designs that seemed to shift and change when observed too closely. Railings of twisted metal and crystallized time curved gracefully, offering both protection and peril to those who dared to lean too far. Far above, suspended by nothing yet anchored to everything, a grand stage hung like a celestial body, ready to bear witness to events that would shape the fate of worlds.
Below, a vast floor stretched into infinity, its edges blurred and shifting, defying the very concept of boundaries. Along its periphery, seats materialized from shadow and mist, occupied by spectral figures whose forms flickered between existence and oblivion. These ghostly spectators, remnants of ages past and echoes of futures yet to come, sat in silent anticipation of the cosmic drama about to unfold.
Time itself was a tangible presence in this otherworldly theater. Countless timepieces of every conceivable design and some beyond imagination clung to every surface. Grandfather clocks stood sentinel in corners, their pendulums swinging in perfect synchronization. Pocket watches nestled in crevices, their faces glowing with an inner light. Sundials cast impossible shadows, and hourglasses poured sand that sparkled like crushed stars. Their collective ticking was not mere sound, but the very heartbeat of this realm, a rhythmic pulse that drove the essence of reality itself.
Weaving through this tapestry of timekeeping, ropes and wires glowed with arcane energy. They formed complex, ever-changing patterns through the air, connecting disparate elements of the cosmic theater in ways that defied conventional geometry. These luminous strands hummed with power, carrying whispers of ancient secrets and fragments of unborn thoughts.
Perched atop the highest compartments, colossal sparrows gazed down upon the proceedings with eyes of liquid starlight. These were no ordinary birds, but cosmic entities in avian form, their feathers shimmering with the light of distant galaxies. Around their necks hung pendants of profound significance – some bearing the inscription "Zi kamba ni," others "Kanga ni." These mystical phrases held the power to unbind or bind, to create or destroy, their meaning heavy with the weight of universal law.
As the moments stretched and compressed, building tension like a coiled spring, the air itself seemed to hold its breath. The ghostly audience leaned forward imperceptibly, their ethereal forms rippling with anticipation. The giant sparrows ruffled their cosmic plumage, causing miniature meteor showers to cascade from their wings.
To be Continued...