The walk through the Space Between Breaths was an exercise in sensory deprivation that bordered on torture. In this realm, the concept of "distance" was an illusion. The Archive of the Unwritten—that forest of a billion glass vials—seemed to remain perpetually a mile away, no matter how fast we walked.
The white salt beneath our feet was so fine it felt like powdered bone. It didn't hold a footprint. The moment I lifted my foot, the salt smoothed over, as if the universe were actively trying to erase the fact that we had ever been there.
"I don't like this, Elara," Leo whispered. His bronze arm was the only source of color in the grey world. The golden runes on his skin were flickering, the energy of the mountain struggling to maintain its frequency in a place that didn't recognize the earth. "It feels like we're being digested."
