The first thing that came to Zephyr's mind when he thought about Limbo was darkness— an infinite black void. A place devoid of rules. A space between Spaces.
But what greeted him was far from what he'd imagined.
He stood adrift in a sea of stars.
Not the cold, dead stars of night skies back home— but living ones. Pulsing. Breathing. Moving in impossible patterns that only the cosmos could understand. Some floated slowly like lanterns through still air; others remained anchored in place, unmoving, as if they were watching.
There was no horizon. Or perhaps, there were too many. Space curled around itself like a living tapestry— folding inward, spiraling sideways, distorting light. North bled into west, up into behind. Yet his feet remained firm.
Zephyr exhaled.
Then inhaled again, sharper— his body loosening like tension slipping from drawn wires. He felt it now— pure, unfiltered spatial Aether hanging thick in the air, wrapping around his limbs like silk.
His pores opened.
