[h3]Pthumeru Yharnam layer, the Old Labyrinth[/h3]
[h3][color=darkred][B]Arrayah, the Black Blade[/B][/color][/h3]
It would be a profoundly strange experience for Ophelia when she broke her snakescale hourglass. One moment the world seemed chaotic and frenetic with everyone moving rapidly, desperately competing to be the fastest... and then the next instant, with a disconcerting abruptness, everything just stopped. Arrayah's form lurched forward, one right hand at the end of an extended arm angling the saw spear she had taken from Gerlinde to stab it into Farren's back, her left hand raised a bloody Torquil into the air once again, and her second right hand was essentially driving the Profane Abyssal Blade into the floor where Farren had been standing half a second earlier.
Farren was mid-swing with his beastflayer, while just a few meters from him she saw the Moonborn Hunter also mid-swing with a flaming hammer. Even the fire coming off the hammerhead, and that which came from the multitude of sconces spread across the cavern, seemed as though frozen in amber.

But it was more than that. Just as instantly as everything she had been conscious of moving around her became stuck in place, so did everything she had not been conscious of moving. As time stopped for her, all color vanished from the world; the bluish light of the sconces, the azure eyes of Arrayah and Farren, the red of blood and orange of fire – [I]everything[/I] – turned to grayscale. In a world where the light was not moving, wavelengths could not be perceived and interpreted as colors, so all she could see was amplitudes; brightness.
More relevant was it, however, that she found herself suddenly in a world of complete and perfect silence. Even the air was frozen in place, incapable of conveying sound waves, which plunged the universe into an impossible stillness. Not not only could Ophelia not hear any of the most prominent sounds of the battle before her, but she would also find that even as she sprinted and quickstepped to close the distance between herself and the Profane Abyssal Blade, she did not make sound either. Even though her feet hit the floor, they did so with nary a whisper, and though she could feel the breath leave her lungs and her heart beating inside her, she could hear neither.

And so, as Ophelia touched the tip of the Holy Moonlight Sword – itself gray and dull in frozen time – to the black form of the Profane Abyssal Blade, finally establishing physical contact between the two halves of the eldritch weapon, she spoke the incantation... but produced no words. Because no words could be spoken in a world without time, because without time there was no movement, no color... and no sound.