The silence thickened.
Durjahan itself exhaled a hollow breath, the ruins bowing beneath an unseen weight.
Bifrons raised his skeletal hand, and all sound vanished.
Not a whisper of wind.
Not even the beat of Taufik's heart.
"This is silence," Bifrons intoned, thought bleeding into thought, "and silence is Death's shadow. You cannot kill what you already are"
The wraiths stirred.
They came without screams, without voices, with mouths wide yet soundless, eyes hollow yet heavy with forgotten lives. They clawed toward Taufik, not for flesh, but for existence itself.
Taufik's eyes narrowed.
The scythe in his hand thrummed, not with noise, but with resonance. It was not silence, nor shadow, but a vibration born of truth. Death gathered around him, alive, relentless.
"…You're mistaken," Taufik's voice cracked the void like lightning. "Silence is not Death. Death has a song. A requiem. An ending that sings louder than eternity"
He swung his scythe.
