Xanthe's Ramblings Note · وثائق المهام

The currents spill out; the source did not hold.

I drank again – again – and the colours darkened.

Black. Red. Purple – the phantoms burned within them.

The body trembles, bones clatter.

It is madness to try.

I went into the deep; I did not turn back.

I bound the soul with chains, but it flees.

The consequences – disordered – shatter all things.

Flesh – like crust – peels away.

The voice is no longer mine. No longer.