Dе‚ugie.ciemne.opowieе›ci.z.dalekiego.terytorium-... ★

Elias looked up. Where the stars should have been, there were eyes—thousands of them, cold and indifferent, watching from the "Far Territory" beyond the veil. He realized then that the Spire wasn't a building; it was a needle, stitching the world of the living to the world of the endless dark.

As the sun dipped below the jagged horizon, the Long Dark began. It wasn't a normal night. The sky turned a bruised purple, and the ground began to hum—a low, vibrating thrum that Elias felt in his teeth.

The air in the Far Territory didn't just carry the cold; it carried the silence of things forgotten. You don’t come here for the scenery; you come here because the world behind you ran out of room for your secrets.

"You brought so much regret with you, traveler," the voice rasped, sounding like dry leaves skittering over stone. "It's heavy. Why not leave it here? The Territory has plenty of room for more ghosts."

He took a step forward, and the ground didn't feel like snow anymore. It felt like memories. And as he walked deeper into the dark, he realized he wasn't shivering from the cold—he was shivering because, for the first time in his life, he was starting to disappear.