Ligeia faces the darkness of the pit and asks, “Hey. Where do you end?”

I am defined by My lack of an ending, it replies.

“That’s what I thought,” she says. “So I suspect you’re not much more than this.” She holds up the little blue stone with a hole through it that she wears on a string around her neck.

You imply that I am merely a system of transition. That to enter Me is to someday emerge.

“Can you dispute that? Or can you redefine yourself?”

The abyss gazes thoughtfully down at her. Ligeia gazes right back into it.