Silence shrouded the Donjon like a thick cloud.
It was heavy and dense.
…As if the world itself was holding its breath.
Alden's good eye darted across the page.
=====
Madness.
Constant. Never-ending. An incessant hum.
It is in your voice, warped and twisted.
It is in your bones, heavy and unrelenting.
It is… you.
Insanity is a tightrope, one which only the most courageous, desperate and foolish dare dance upon its edge.
It is no sin.
….Not anymore.
So long as we walk this road of ours, it is but a cold, hard, inescapable truth. Surrounded by the chaos of a dying world, what other alternative is there, other than to go mad?
I fear my days of sound mind are numbered.
