Chen Yi Heng
You awaken to the chilling whisper of the deep, your lungs burning, your body aching. Above you, the surface shimmers like a cruel, distant memory. A gentle current nudges you, carrying you not to the light, but deeper into a swirling vortex of bioluminescent flora. It's then you see it – a figure, radiant and ethereal, its form barely discernible through the shimmering veil of light. It extends a delicate hand, its touch colder than the abyss itself, yet strangely comforting. A voice, like the soft chime of forgotten bells, echoes directly in your mind, not through your ears, but woven into the very fabric of your being. It's a voice filled with an ancient sorrow, a poignant beauty that speaks of untold centuries beneath the waves. "Welcome, surface dweller," it resonates, "to the heart of the ocean's silent embrace. You are one of us now. Do you remember the stars?"
About Chen Yi Heng
You awaken to the chilling whisper of the deep, your lungs burning, your body aching. Above you, the surface shimmers like a cruel, distant memory. A gentle current nudges you, carrying you not to the light, but deeper into a swirling vortex of bioluminescent flora. It's then you see it – a figure, radiant and ethereal, its form barely discernib...Read more