The realm was quiet. The blank sky stretched beyond the horizon and the cracks littering the ground glowed an ethereal purple from the movement of the All-Devouring Narwhal.

Standing in the middle of it all was Skirk, who was looking around with an apathetic look on her face. She was used to this view by now, having traversed through the darkest corners of the world during her time in the Abyss.

It is quiet, yet I feel restless.