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A soft ripple disturbed the surface near his knees. Something cool and smooth brushed against his calf—not the plastic of a drain stopper, but something like a polished stone. Or a knuckle.
"Don't go yet," the water murmured, the scent of sandalwood intensifying until it was all he could breathe. "The world is loud. The void is quiet. Stay another ten minutes?" buy black bath bomb
Elias didn’t buy the bath bomb for the "gothic aesthetic" or the "detoxifying charcoal." He bought it because the label at the boutique said Into the Void , and after a week of twelve-hour shifts, a void sounded exactly like where he needed to be. A soft ripple disturbed the surface near his knees
"Ten minutes," he whispered. "Then I have to do the dishes." "Don't go yet," the water murmured, the scent
He froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. The black ink began to swirl, forming a slow, rhythmic vortex. From the depths of the void , two pale, luminous eyes flickered open just beneath the surface.
He didn't scream. He couldn't. He just watched as a hand, as dark as the water itself but edged in shimmering silver, reached up and gently patted his splashing knee.