The realm stretches into infinite darkness, where neither stars nor clouds dare to linger. An abyss untouched by light. The ground is fragmented into jagged, floating stone platforms that spiral downward, suspended in the emptiness.
A single, towering stone platform looms at the top — a throne for six Wraiths to judge souls against the weight of a feather. Black ichor seeps from the cracks, vanishing into the void below.
Only a few stepping stones connect to each other through invisible threads, forcing all who walk them to tread carefully. One misstep, and they would fall forever, disappearing into oblivion. No winds stir, and no echo returns in this place. The only illumination comes from faint, ethereal glows that pulse like dying embers in the dark.
This is the Hall of Void, where regret lingers like smoke, and the weight of countless souls presses down on the air, heavy and unforgiving.
