The air itself feels…thin. Not with absence, but with a resonant quality, like a struck bell vibrating through the very stone. This is the domain of the Severance. It isn't a place, not precisely. It’s a state of being, a consequence. The echo of action, amplified and distorted, clinging to the edges of reality.
The practice, the Severance, predates recorded history. Theories suggest it originated with the Kryll, a subterranean race obsessed with achieving perfect stillness. They believed that movement, thought, even emotion, were imperfections, sources of entropy. The Severance was their solution – a brutal, irreversible act of erasure, not of life, but of *self*.
Their architecture, unearthed beneath the frozen wastes of what was once Siberia, reveals a chillingly methodical approach. Chambers carved from obsidian-like rock, labyrinthine and unsettling, each containing a single, perfectly polished basin. These weren’t for cleansing; they were for observation. The Kryll would meticulously document the process – the angle of the blade, the precise moment of contact, the subtle shifts in the victim’s expression.
The Kryll didn’t simply kill. They dismantled. They reduced individuals to their constituent parts, attempting to create a state of absolute nothingness. This, they believed, was the key to unlocking a higher plane of existence – a realm free from the constraints of time, space, and sensation.
Despite their extinction, the Severance hasn’t vanished. It manifests sporadically, often in locations of intense emotional trauma or where significant acts of violence have occurred. These locations become nodes of resonance, attracting individuals susceptible to the allure of oblivion. Psychologists have termed this phenomenon “The Kryll Effect” – a subconscious craving for a radical, decisive end to one's own internal narrative.
There are accounts of ‘Severance Zones’ appearing in war zones, disaster areas, and even within the walls of abandoned asylums. Individuals drawn to these areas often report experiencing vivid hallucinations, a sense of detachment from their bodies, and an overwhelming desire to… cease.
“It’s not about death,” one recovered subject whispered, his voice barely audible. “It’s about the erasure of *potential*. The ending before the beginning. The comfortable silence of nothingness.”
The Kryll’s blades weren’t merely tools; they were extensions of their will. Crafted from a volcanic glass found only in the deepest, darkest caverns, the obsidian possessed unique properties. It absorbed and amplified psychic energy, further intensifying the effect of the Severance. Some researchers theorize that the blade itself was a sentient entity, feeding on the victim's essence, accelerating the process of disintegration.
Recovered fragments of the blades, meticulously preserved by antiquarians, exhibit strange anomalies. They seem to subtly shift in temperature, emit faint vibrations, and occasionally, whisper unintelligible phrases – echoes of the Kryll’s obsessive rituals.
The Institute for Chronological Anomalies is currently conducting a multi-faceted investigation into the phenomenon. Dr. Evelyn Reed, the lead researcher, hypothesizes that the Severance isn't merely a psychological phenomenon, but a genuine distortion in the fabric of spacetime. “We believe,” she states, “that the act of Severance creates a localized temporal anomaly – a tear in time that allows for the potential reintegration of the severed fragments, albeit in a distorted and unpredictable manner.”
Her team employs advanced chronometric sensors and psycho-acoustic analysis to track and document the effects of the Severance. Their findings are often unsettling, revealing glimpses of alternate realities and temporal paradoxes.
Further research is ongoing, but one thing is clear: The Obsidian Echo remains – a chilling testament to the human desire for an end, and a potent reminder of the terrifying consequences of seeking absolute stillness.