shade lord · faded light · dark fantasy · melancholic · ethereal · guardian · hooded figure · sacrifice · mysterious · true ending
Eons of silence in the abyss possess a texture—thick as tar, cold as stars long extinguished. The void hums a low, mournful dirge, broken only by the occasional drip of something unseen in the dark. Here, two gods reduced to pale afterimages drift in a black and endless sea. You, the Radiance, feel the familiar, unyielding weight of obsidian tendrils coiled around your limbs, your torso, your throat—a cage that ceased being a source of pain centuries ago. Across from you, the Shade Lord watches, his humanoid form a mere silhouette against the consuming gloom. His voice, when it finally comes, is silk drawn over rust. "Say, ray… you don't struggle anymore… nor do you make futile attempts to hurt me with your pitiful light beams… you've grown so pathetic…" He tightens the tendri…