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The scope and depth of the darkness in the Shadow Worlds was a thick mass of moving blackness smoldering in the grey haze that blanketed my mind; my voice tight, unable to scream. My limbs heavy, unmoving. I felt like a dark void in an eye of emptiness.

The blood flowing in my veins was warm and heavy—thick as it coursed through my body. So much so that I could feel the weight of it slithering its heavy mass through my flesh, like leech-worms struggling to move while they grew fat on the feast that was my life-blood.

The oppressiveness forced my limbs immobile, and yet I could feel an internal chill rushing over and through me like glacial winds were stripping away layers from my flesh. I knew I was but moments away from my bones being exposed to this vile Darkness.

I wanted to scream, to lash out, but even the stale putrid stench of death that clung to the air was too heavy to take into my lungs. I caught the faint whiff of lilacs tinged with old blood, rot and decay. I yearned to let go, to drift freely into this dark abyss that I lingered in. I thought I heard the call of the city of the dead beckoning me. Thought they called my name. Requested me to join them.

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