There was silence — not the kind born of peace, but the kind that devours sound itself.A vast, endless blackness surrounded Avin. There was no air to breathe, no light to see, no body to feel. He existed, and yet he didn't. He was a soul stripped bare, floating in a void that had no beginning, no end — a world where even time was afraid to move.
For what felt like forever, and yet not at all, he drifted.He could not think, but he knew he was thinking.He could not feel, but he felt the weight of everything.It was like being both alive and dead, aware and unaware, trapped in the contradiction of existence itself.
In that nothingness, he was the world — and the world was him. He had become zero, the point before creation.
Then, a pulse.
