The voice, now frantic, reverberated within him. It was Elara's voice, tinged with desperation and urgency. Yet, before he could respond, the world slipped away, and Ego succumbed to the consuming void.
Time became an abstract concept as consciousness ebbed and flowed. Images flickered through Ego's mind—a tapestry of memories, fragmented and disjointed. Faces, places, and snippets of conversations danced in the recesses of his subconscious.
A distant light beckoned him, a faint glimmer in the darkness. With a surge of determination, Ego fought against the murky depths, clawing his way toward the elusive beacon.
Slowly, awareness trickled back, and he found himself suspended in a hazy realm between dreams and reality. Elara's worried visage hovered above him, concern etched into her features. "Ego, are you alright?"
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me!