Not mere quiet, but the absolute absence of sound that exists between heartbeats, between atoms. The chamber stood frozen in post-apocalyptic tableau - the Mirror's remnants now dull and lifeless, their surfaces blank as blind eyes; the Twisted One gone without even ashes to mark its passing; only Varaan remained, kneeling in a circle of evaporating ichor that steamed in the suddenly chill air.
Her body thrummed with alien energy, every vein standing in stark relief beneath skin that seemed too pale, too perfect. As she raised her head, the shadows in the chamber leaned toward her as if drawn by some unseen gravity, and when she opened her eyes, they were no longer human eyes at all, but windows into something vast and hungry that had waited eons for this moment.
The Hollowfang was gone. But in its place? Something stirred. Something ancient. Something that had just been fed.
