章節 26: Chapter 25: The Drowning of Stars
The abyss was endless, swallowing Adrian in a weightless descent. His heart pounded in his chest, but no air filled his lungs. There was no up or down, only a vast, incomprehensible void. It was as if the world had been stripped away, leaving nothing but the inky blackness and the sensation of falling—falling deeper into the unknown.
But even in the darkness, there was a faint light, distant and flickering like a star on the verge of collapse. Adrian strained to focus on it, willing it to grow brighter, to guide him out of the depths. Slowly, the light grew, and with it, came a haunting sound—a low hum, rising and falling like the breath of a slumbering giant.
Suddenly, Adrian's feet touched solid ground, though it felt as though he had landed on nothing more than air. The dark fog that surrounded him parted just enough to reveal a massive, cavernous space. The ceiling above him was an endless expanse of stars, but they were not the stars he had known. These burned with a dull, bruised light, flickering as though struggling to stay alive, their once brilliant glow dimmed by some unseen force.
The ground beneath him rippled like water, but it was solid underfoot, a shifting landscape of shadows and light. In the distance, he could hear faint whispers, voices carried on a soft, unfelt breeze.
He wasn't alone here.
Adrian's pulse quickened as the whispers grew louder, taking form. They weren't just random voices—they were familiar. He could hear the echo of his own thoughts among them, fragmented memories resurfacing, swirling like a storm within his mind.
"Adrian..." the voices hissed. "Do you remember?"
And then, in the far distance, he saw them.
The stars.
They fell from the sky, one by one, like raindrops, plummeting into the churning black sea below. Each one flickered out before it hit the surface, swallowed by the abyss. But as the stars drowned, figures began to rise from the darkness—shadowy, indistinct, and yet undeniably human.
Adrian staggered back, his breath catching in his throat. These figures were like ghosts, pale reflections of the people he had once known—people who had been lost to him, people he had failed. Their faces shifted and blurred, but he recognized them all. They were the lost souls from his past, the ones the mirror had shown him.
The woman from years ago, her eyes still full of sorrow. The colleague he had betrayed, his face twisted in anger. The child, watching him with wide, unblinking eyes.
But there were others now—more faces, more ghosts, drifting toward him like phantoms. Their eyes were hollow, their mouths open in silent screams, as if they were trapped in eternal agony.
Adrian felt the weight of their collective gaze bearing down on him. It was as if the very air around him had thickened, pressing against his chest, suffocating him. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. The void stretched on endlessly, and the stars continued to fall, one after another, drowning in the dark sea.
A voice rose above the rest, a whisper that sent chills down his spine.
"You can't escape them, Adrian," it said. "They are the stars you let fall."
He turned, his heart racing, and saw a figure standing at the edge of the abyss. Unlike the others, this one was sharp, clear—a figure cloaked in shadows, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light.
The figure stepped forward, and Adrian's stomach twisted in recognition. It was him.
His own reflection, but twisted, darkened by the weight of everything he had tried to suppress. The figure's face was gaunt, its eyes sunken, and its lips curled into a cruel, mocking smile.
"They followed you here," the figure said, its voice a perfect echo of Adrian's own. "You thought you could forget them. You thought you could hide. But every star you let fall has come back to haunt you."
Adrian's hands shook as he stepped back, but the figure only moved closer, mirroring his movements.
"This is your reckoning," it said, its voice cold. "You let them drown in the dark, and now, you must join them."
The ground beneath Adrian began to shift, the shadows swirling around his feet like tendrils, pulling him toward the edge. He fought against it, but it was no use. The abyss yawned open, a gaping maw that threatened to swallow him whole.
The reflection of himself, dark and menacing, reached out a hand.
"Let go," it whispered. "Fall like the stars."
Adrian felt the pull, felt the weight of his past dragging him down. The faces of the lost souls surrounded him, their eyes pleading, accusing. His mind raced, memories flooding back in a torrent of pain and regret.
But even as the darkness threatened to consume him, something stirred deep within.
"No," he whispered, clenching his fists. "I won't."
The shadows writhed, but Adrian held his ground, his heart pounding in defiance. He had been running from the truth for so long, but now, in this place where the stars drowned and the ghosts of his past sought to pull him under, he realized that he couldn't run anymore.
He had to face it.
The dark figure that was his reflection snarled, its outstretched hand shaking with fury.
"You think you can fight this?" it spat. "You think you can escape the darkness?"
Adrian met its gaze, his voice steady, though his heart still raced.
"I won't let the stars fall," he said. "Not anymore."
With those words, the ground beneath him trembled, the shadows recoiling. The stars above flickered once more, their dull light brightening as the void seemed to shudder in response. The figures around him began to fade, their accusing eyes softening, their whispers quieting.
The dark reflection of Adrian hissed in fury, but its form began to blur, to dissolve into the very shadows it had come from.
And then, with one final flash of light, the abyss was gone.
Adrian stood alone, the distant stars above twinkling faintly in the sky once more. The void had receded, and though the weight of his past still lingered, it no longer threatened to drown him.
He had faced the abyss—and for the first time, he had refused to fall.
But the journey was far from over.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票