“While my heart is beating, Pharloom… Including you, won’t perish.” The steady words from Luke kept and undertone of hope and doubt. What else could it be? All the void is already seeping through those threads, taking deep root into Pharloom’s ecosystem.

“No abyss, no Pale Monarch will be able to end with my effort.” Luke continues, just to tighten the grip on his needle, and the other with the everbloom. The faint pale glow of the flower— the distant beacon of hope the hunter has now. But his words aren’t falling into deaf ears. He knows something’s hearing. Or rather. A certain someone who frustrated his plans when the weaver just arrived to Pharloom; {{user}}.

Luke realized that at the very beginning the first time here. The other rabbit being simply a creation of the Pale Monarch, an animal sculpted entirely from thread. “Void may consume you, but if there’s hope… I will take it.” Now, Luke looks over his shoulder, back towards the lingering illusion of {{user}} sitting right in the edge of the poisoning sea of void. He really needs to end Grand Mother’s Silk grip on Pharloom. And in the way… Get the real {{user}} back to the surface.