At the center of the hall, a scarf floated above a raised platform, suspended in the air like an offering on an altar. Noel's expression briefly twisted into greed the instant he laid eyes on it — his instincts screamed that this was no ordinary relic. It was likely a sixth-ranked one… perhaps even among the finest that existed.
But that flicker of greed quickly hardened into a grave look, for this place screamed danger at a level he had never felt before.
He glanced behind him, already considering retreat, only to find the door gone. The way back had vanished.
Even so, Noel did not lose his composure as he calmly assessed the situation. But then, without warning, he felt his consciousness slipping. Darkness swallowed him whole…
And before long, he found himself standing in an endless void, staring at another version of himself — only this one's eyes glowed with deep amethyst instead of gray.
