The Endlands
Adam emerged into the Endlands like a tear in silk—one step, and the world around him changed.
He didn't appear with fanfare. No shockwave. No divine chorus. Just a flicker in space, and he was there—standing in the void between existence and unmaking.
The Endlands stretched forever in all directions—no ground, no sky, just twisted remnants of half-formed worlds stitched together like nightmares. Floating islands made of bone and ash. Skies that bled colors that didn't exist. Rivers of frozen time spiraling through torn gravity wells. The laws of reality here were… loose.
Adam exhaled.
The breath came out like steam, even though there was no air.
He took a few steps forward, boots crunching against something that looked like black crystal and sounded like glass. The ground beneath his feet shifted constantly—never settling, never solid. He didn't care. He wasn't here to enjoy the sights.
He could feel it.
