12 hours after the rumbling.
...
Opungale.
Viccil pushed open the thick double doors to a wide corridor, and allowed Darwel to pass through before her. The sheer mesh of naturally garnished stone and small trees lined on both sides of the corridor, all with their absurdly large roots extending through neatly arranged channels to the ceiling, was immaculate, especially when considering that weeds and flowers of various kinds somehow grew over the aforementioned roots in harmony.
Darwel craned her neck and bent it forcefully to the side with her hand. She felt absolutely horrible. Something within her kept bouncing against her flesh, the painful reaction keeping her skin tone pale.
Thankfully, she wasn't hanging limp with her mouth agape anymore. The disappearance of the illusory frame, the counter above her and the Control Seal, had spelled the end of the aggressiveness of her soul like before, and frankly she appreciated it.