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IT FELT weird; unnatural having your body immobilised after being so used to never having your fucking ass sat down in one place. The darkness in which you were in was complete, like a solid thing wrapped around you. An inky, velvet shroud that muffled your senses and cut you off from the outside world. You might as well have been submerged in pitch, the tar-like substance, for all you could see.
Zero light penetrated this all-encompassing void. No faint glows, shadows, or shifts in darkness broke the uniform obscurity before your eyes. You feel your eyes move around behind your eyelids, that barely flutter open; and despite the partial vision, it only shows black. It was as if you had gone blind, your vision swallowed up by the depths of ebony surrounding you on all sides.
It suffocates you. The profound darkness feels as though it's closing in around you in more ways than one. Without any space to see or boundaries to judge distance, the void felt like it was shrinking with each breath. The ink seemed to be pressing in from all directions, its constricting grip tightening imperceptibly over time.
It was as if the depth itself was a living, breathing thing, slowly closing its jaws around you. You could almost feel it crushing in, shrinking the space between both of your outstretched hands with each second that passed. Panic fluttered in your chest like a trapped bird trying to flee. Your breathing grew shallow and rapid as sweat broke out across your skin. The air itself felt thick and oppressive, as if you were trying to breathe through a wet blanket.
Through the haze of your panic, you think you detect something else drifting through the blackness with you. Faint whispers and echoes that didn't originate from your own frantic movements. A faint susurration like the sibilant hiss of steam or smoke.
You strain your ears, trying to filter out the sound of your racing heartbeat. At first, the whispers are unintelligible - just wisps of sound barely discernible from the silence. But they seem to be coming from all around, as if the darkness itself is speaking.
The whispers rise and fall around you, sometimes seeming very close as if breathed directly in your ear. Other times they retreat to a distant, echoing quality. As if they're toying with you, circling just out of reach and you begin to make out words in the ethereal mumbling. Strange, tortured voices just at the edge of hearing, muttering things no mortal was meant to understand. Your name, carried on tendrils of smoke that curl and twist through the void. Ancient secrets and forbidden knowledge, now drifting loose from their prison.
