62 (ALONE)

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Darkness consumed Amir, wrapping around him like a shroud

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Darkness consumed Amir, wrapping around him like a shroud. The void was infinite, an oppressive nothingness that seemed to press against his very soul. His body hung suspended in the air, weightless yet heavy, as if the void itself held him aloft. Each passing second carried him higher, though no ground existed below to measure the ascent. His arms lay limply at his sides, his form utterly still, save for the silent tears streaming down his face.

He stared into the endless black, his gaze searching for something—anything—but finding nothing. The emptiness mocked him, its silence deafening. He tried to move, to speak, to scream, but his body betrayed him. No sound escaped his lips. The only evidence of life was the steady flow of tears carving paths down his cheeks.

Shock, guilt, and anger churned in his chest, the emotions a storm he couldn't release. His body twitched and jerked as he fought against the paralysis, each spasm a desperate plea to break free. But the void was merciless, holding him captive, its cold embrace seeping into his skin.

Fear tightened its grip around his mind. He couldn't move. He couldn't scream. He couldn't escape. The realization was suffocating, a weight that dragged him deeper into the abyss.

Then, the void stirred.

A figure emerged from the darkness, its silhouette stark against the nothingness. Draped in a crimson robe that billowed as if moved by an unseen wind, it approached with a deliberate, almost predatory grace. The red was a violent contrast to the black, a smear of blood against the endless night.

Amir's breath caught in his throat as the figure drew nearer. Though its face was obscured, the figure's presence was undeniable, its steps unbound by the rules of the plane. Every movement exuded menace, an unspoken threat that sent shivers coursing through Amir's suspended form.

The figure stopped just short of him, the folds of its robe still as it reached up to lower its hood.

Amir's heart froze.

He was staring at himself.

The man before him was identical in every way—same face, same body. But the eyes were different, gleaming with a cruel intensity, and the posture carried a confidence Amir lacked. His doppelgänger smirked, a wicked curve of the lips that made Amir's stomach churn.

"Jose..." Amir's mind screamed the word, though his lips refused to obey.

The figure tilted its head, almost amused by Amir's struggle.

"Amir," the doppelgänger said, its voice a distorted echo, laced with power and malice. "It's time. Time for the world to see who we truly are."

The words hit Amir like a blow, his body jerking in response.

"Soon," the figure continued, stepping closer. "I'll show them all. I'll show them us."

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