Void Corrupted Longbow Skin gleams with a cold lilac glow, its limbs carved from midnight ebony and lacquered to a mirror-smooth surface that drinks light rather than reflecting it. The bow's silhouette is a whisper: slender at the grip, broadening into sweeping curves that end in crescent tips. Along the riser, ash-gray runes pulse softly, and the grip is wrapped in deep plum leather that feels slick with age. The string, braided from night itself, hums when moonlight catches it. Tiny shards of violet glass run along the limb, catching light and refracting a fragment of the void. When tilted, the surface seems to swallow a pale starfield, as if the night itself is trapped beneath its lacquer. In old parchments, crafters spoke of echoes from the crossing—reflections of darkness tempered into a weapon that can be seen and unseen. When drawn, a pale halo of violet fog spills along the arc, and the shot seems to linger in the air a moment longer. The skin itself carries no stat bonuses; it is pure storytelling, a badge of a hunter who has weathered peril. Some say the arc of the shot carves a soft crescent of shadow behind the target, a sign of the void's embrace. Rangers prize it for authority as much as aesthetics, a signal that the bearer has weathered peril. In a crowded glade or a quiet road, questions arise: where did you find that glow, who tempered it, what vow did you promise the void to carry it into battle? The skin threads a larger story about pursuit and patience, and the thin line between power and myth. A veteran herbalist told me the glow can react to Void-born venom, a rumor I could not easily disprove, but it adds another layer to the mystery of its wearers. On Saddlebag Exchange, the skin drifts through stalls on a current of rumor and need. Prices pulse with demand—some days a handful of silver, other days a small fortune in gold—enough to make a seasoned traveler pause. The crowd includes smugglers, scouts, and merchants who respect the weight of a tale as much as the weight of metal. I watched a trader describe the glow as proof of a long night’s bargain, then seal a deal under violet lamp-light. The chatter in the lanes suggests that a successful sale is less about money than about the promise the buyer makes to carry the void’s memory forward. Back at camp, a ranger slings the longbow, the void glow catching the last candle and turning a routine skirmish into a memory. The Void Corrupted Longbow Skin remains a living piece of the world’s night, a relic shaped by those who chase darkness and then carry its story into the dawn. For collectors and storytellers alike, it anchors a personal journey—the risk taken to obtain it, the patience learned while guarding it, and the shared awe when its violet light finally answers the wind. It is not merely a weapon's skin, but a chapter etched in violet.