In the void, I floated, encompassed by shadows. The dim flicker of distant light barely pierced the darkness, mocking my sense of direction. But then, suddenly, a sharp pang stemmed from my left wrist, drawing my gaze downward. There, a gash wept crimson, the blood coasted around my arm before congealing into a ring around me that twisted and coiled in different forms and directions. It moved with a life of its own, twisting and twirling.
More blood welled forth, a ceaseless torrent from the wound, each droplet adding to the macabre pattern that drifted around me. I was transfixed, unable to avert my eyes as the pattern grew more intricate, more enchanting. It seemed to radiate a light of its own, pushing back the shadows. It felt as though I were gazing into the abyss, yet the abyss gaze
