Darkness.
It pressed against him like a weight, a suffocating tide that swallowed air and sound. Zero opened his eyes—or thought he did—but nothing changed. He floated in a void where direction meant nothing. His breath echoed too loudly in the silence, as though he had been dropped into the hollow chest of the world.
And then, faintly, came the sound.
Laughter.
Not cruel, not mocking. The laughter of children—bright, fleeting, filled with the warmth of days long past. It rang through the void like glass bells, cutting through the dark. Zero's chest constricted. He knew those voices. Every note was etched into him as clearly as if carved into bone.
"No…" His whisper cracked. "Not here. Not again."
The void rippled. The darkness peeled away to reveal stone—cold, jagged, damp with the scent of moss and blood. The cave.
The cave.
