The interior of the dome, where all light seemed to have vanished, looked like a world from an old black-and-white photograph.

The once vibrant forest, alive with the breath of nature, had now turned into a black-and-white ink painting, with every branch leaving behind only dark silhouettes, as if drawn in ink.

The leaves, tinged with a faint gray, looked as if they had been touched by frost, rustling with the wind like shadows.

The shadow foreign being, which ruled this monochrome world, existed without form, like a black fog.

It did not walk, yet moved; it did not see, …