Whispers in the Void

Yet again, I am greeted with a familiar sight. I stand alone in the valley, the stillness pressing in around me. The hills rise on either side, piercing into the sky. It's quiet here, too quiet, like the world is holding its breath. I take a deep breath, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that's settled in my chest, but it just lingers, heavy and stubborn. I have lost count of how many times I have been here. Yet, somehow it always feels like a familiar place, like... home.

The grass sways gently at my feet, but even the wind feels distant, like it's not really touching me. There's a strange sense of waiting in the air, like something is about to happen, and I know exactly what. I've been drawn here countless times, yet still I can't say why. It's like a pull, something telling me to be in this place.

Suddenly, a dull ache begins, creeping in slowly at the back of my skull. At first, it's easy to ignore, just a slight pressure. But it builds, spreading deeper until I can't shake it off.

I rub my temples, trying to clear my head. The ache grows sharper, like something is pressing in on me, and the air feels heavier, almost suffocating. I close my eyes and steady my breath. I look up, and there it is.

Amongst the clouds there is a bird, swooping in towards the valley. Its wings seem to glow, radiating a light of their own. It glides closer, graceful in its movement. As it nears the ground, it spreads its wings wide, casting a soft glow across the valley.

A phoenix... that's the only word that comes to mind. But I know better than that, having been here countless times. That bird is no phoenix. There's a power in its presence, something ancient, something I can't fully understand. Though I haven't really communicated with it, that much I am certain of.

The bird lands softly on the hill ahead of me. Its eyes, sharp and knowing, lock onto mine. I feel drawn to it, like it's calling me without words. The pressure in my head pulses again, but I can't look away now.

I take a step forward, then another, my feet moving of their own accord. The closer I get, the more intense the pain becomes, as if something is trying to force its way into my thoughts.

I grit my teeth, trying to fight it off, but the bird remains still, watching, waiting.

Then, it hits. A sound cuts through the air, filling my ears. It sharpens into a shrill, a piercing scream that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. I stagger, pressing my hands against the sides of my head, but the noise only grows louder, more unbearable.

"Stop," I mutter, barely able to hear my own voice over the deafening shriek. The sound intensifies. "Stop!" I shout as I fall to my knees.

"STOP! Please, stop!"

The sound surges one last time, so overwhelming me. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it ceases. The valley falls back into silence, the weight in the air lifting. And when I dare to look up again, the bird is gone.

Confused, I stumble to my feet, trying to piece together what just happened. But before I can make sense of it, my vision goes black.