Chapter 67: Immortal’s Wife
A few days prior, when Einar was captured and taken to the castle by the knights and the old noble, he had lost consciousness.
To be blunt, he had simply fallen asleep. Whether it was exhaustion or a subconscious defense mechanism, his mind had shut down as the knights hauled him away.
Through the rugged terrain and the wild plains stretching before the crescent pond, the carriage rattled onward.
The hooves of the horses thundered against the dirt, dragging their burden ever forward. The night sky stretched endlessly above them, a void of muted stars and swirling shadows.
After what felt like an eternity, the carriage slowed with the neigh of horses. They had arrived.
Before them loomed a pitch-black veil, utterly still. It was as though reality had been torn apart, leaving only a seamless void. Yet, when one neared it, a strange vibration resonated in the air, as though the darkness itself pulsed with silent hunger.
The old noble stepped out of the carriage, his weathered face betraying neither concern nor hesitation. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a half-crescent symbol, its surface etched with runes long forgotten by the common folk. With practiced precision, he pressed the symbol against the veil.
The reaction was immediate.
The once-still void convulsed violently, writhing like a living beast. It raged against its bindings for several minutes before, at last, it relented. Then, without warning, it devoured them.
For a single breath, all existence ceased.
Their bodies, their minds—everything—were engulfed. They became part of the void itself, a mere speck in the boundless abyss. And then, just as suddenly, they emerged.