The Ecstatic Emptiness

The air in the Chamber of Mirrors is not air, but the weight of unshed tears. It is a place of transition, a waiting room for joy that never arrives. The walls are not stone but polished obsidian, and they do not reflect your face, but the person you were before the laughter died. Here, the silence is a physical thing, a pressure against the eardrums, a vacuum where sound goes to be…