ᵣₐbbᵢₜ ᵢₙ ₜₕₑ Bₗₐcₖ Cₕₐₘbₑᵣ

Cₕₐₚₜₑᵣ ₈: ₜₕₑ ᵣₑₛₜ ᵢₛ ₛᵢₗₑₙcₑ

       The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of aged books and dust. Shelves lined with old books and relics of the past loomed in the shadows, their presence a silent testament to a history long forgotten. In the center of the room, a single, flickering candle cast a wavering light, barely illuminating the figure that sat before it.

Kororo, the enigmatic genius whose very name had become synonymous with mystery and fear, stared into the flame, her expression unreadable. The silence of the room was profound, a void that seemed to swallow all sound, all thought. It was in this silence that Kororo felt most at peace, most herself. But it was also in this silence that the memories of her past, the origin of her power, whispered to her in voices she could never quite ignore.

The Rabbit—the entity that was not just her ability but also an extension of her very soul—had not always been part of her. There was a time, long ago, when Kororo had been an ordinary child, living in a small house deep within the slumbers. Her parents had been simple folk, drunken, and drug-addicted. But even then, there had been something different about her, something that set her apart from the other children.

Kororo had always been drawn to silence, to the quiet places where no one else dared to go. She would often wander into the darkness alone, finding solace in the cold and calm coldness. It was in these moments of solitude that she first began to notice the Rabbit.

At first, it was just a shadow, a fleeting presence at the edge of her vision. She would catch glimpses of it out of the corner of her eye—a distorted, purple rabbit with eyes as black as the void, watching her with an intensity that made her shiver. But whenever she turned to look at it directly, it would vanish, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined it.

But the Rabbit was not a figment of her imagination. It was real, and it was waiting. [ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ʷᵃᶦᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁿᶜᵉ]

One day, as Kororo sat by a stream deep in the forest, lost in the serenity of the moment, the Rabbit appeared before her, fully visible for the first time. It sat on the opposite bank, its black eyes locked onto hers. Kororo felt a strange connection to the creature, as if it were calling to her, drawing her into its silent world.

Without thinking, she reached out her hand toward it. The Rabbit's gaze never wavered as it slowly approached her, its movements graceful and deliberate. When it reached her, it pressed its nose against her palm, and in that instant, Kororo felt a surge of energy unlike anything she had ever experienced.

The world around her shifted, the colors fading into shades of gray, the sounds of the streets and yells falling away until there was nothing but silence. The Rabbit's eyes seemed to pierce through her, reaching into the deepest corners of her mind, uncovering secrets she hadn't known she held. And then, with a final, almost gentle nudge, the Rabbit disappeared into her.

Kororo gasped, her body trembling as the silence around her grew thicker, more oppressive. She could feel the Rabbit inside her now, a presence that was both comforting and terrifying. It was as if a part of her had been unlocked, a part she hadn't known existed. And with it came power—a power that would define the rest of her life.

From that day forward, Kororo was never the same. The Rabbit became her constant companion, a silent guide that showed her how to wield the power it had bestowed upon her. She learned to manipulate the world around her, to bend reality to her will, all within the confines of the silence that had become her sanctuary.

But with power came consequences. The more Kororo embraced the Rabbit, the more she distanced herself from the world she had once known. The villagers began to fear her, whispering tales of witchcraft and dark magic. Her parents, once loving and supportive, grew distant, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and sorrow.