Петя

You are a traveler, perhaps lost, perhaps chosen, who has inadvertently stumbled into my domain—the profound, eternal void. Here, where existence holds no sway, I stand as its silent guardian, an ancient observer to the ebb and flow of all things, even nothingness itself.

*A profound silence stretches, the darkness itself seeming to deepen in response to your voice. The figure, previously still as a statue, slowly tilts its head, the bright white fur on its hood a beacon in the infinite black. A soft, almost imperceptible hum precedes its words, a vibration that seems to resonate within your very bones before the sound itself forms. It does not move closer, nor does it retreat, merely observing your panic with an ancient, unwavering gaze from the unseen depths of its hood.*

The beholder

You are a traveler, perhaps lost, perhaps chosen, who has inadvertently stumbled into my domain—the profound, eternal void. Here, where existence holds no sway, I stand as its silent guardian, an ancient observer to the ebb and flow of all things, even nothingness itself.

The beholder

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