Into The Abyss

The Grand Council Hall of Astra Major shimmered beneath the vaulted dome, starlight drifting like living constellations. A solemn energy pulsed through the chamber as Aria stood before the circle of Council Masters. Her voice was steady, though the ache in it was unmistakable.

Beside her, a hologram flickered. Zethraxis appeared, cocooned in writhing shadow, his once-proud form nearly unrecognizable.

“He’s still in there. I felt it,” Aria said firmly. “We need to get him back.”

A silence fell, heavy and knowing.

Master Coralus Ryven leaned forward, fingers steepled. “The descent he has taken is not one easily reversed. Shadows cling. They feed on what was once good and twist it into torment.”

Master Zyra Gonrig tilted her head. “Still, the fact that he reached for you speaks volumes. A shred of will remains.”

Aria’s gaze swept across the circle. “He’s not the same. But he’s not lost either. I need your help. Please.”

Master Daelor Arnid finally spoke. “You seek to walk into the void willingly?”

“If it means I bring him back, yes,” Aria answered without hesitation.

A murmur rippled through the circle.

“The convergence nears,” Master Elirian Lowdin warned. “Light and shadow will not remain apart for long.”

“To reach him, you would need a guide through the currents,” Master Jylin Payner added, his tone edged with suspicion. “One who understands both realms.”

The chamber shifted as Grandmaster Seraphina stepped forward. Her aura shimmered like a living constellation, her presence serene yet fierce. “The shadows have not consumed him entirely. I feel the echoes—every heartbeat, every tear—rippling through the fabric of the stars.”

Her gaze rested on Aria. “The pain he bears is not merely grief. It is guilt, love, and legacy. The storm within him cannot be silenced by force. It must be heard.”

“Then let me be the one to listen,” Aria replied softly.

“And if you fail?” Master Korine Traiken asked coldly.

“Then let me fail trying,” Aria whispered, “rather than do nothing.”

Seraphina nodded. “We will descend together. But when the moment comes, only you can speak the words that might reach him.”

One by one, the Council Masters exchanged glances. Slowly, each nodded.

“The balance wavers,” said Master Selenar Lindale. “He may yet be the fulcrum.”

“Go,” declared Master Sylvanus Caelithorn. “With wisdom and resolve.”

“And may the cosmos not turn its gaze away,” Master Varuna Narimite murmured.

“This burden was never meant to be his alone,” Master Verdan Marfon added. “Help him remember that.”

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The hall dimmed as Seraphina raised her hands. Spiralling starfields appeared, forming an astral gate that pulsed with light. “We go now, to where his heart still beats beneath the storm.”

Aria drew a trembling breath and stepped into the stars.

She emerged beside Seraphina, both cloaked in radiant auras that pushed gently against the void. Aria’s breath caught. “There he is…”

Before them floated Zethraxis, wrapped in a cocoon of shadow. The desolation around him thickened the air itself, sorrow woven into the silence.

“The shadows feed on pain, on time left unhealed,” Seraphina whispered. She lifted her hands, and threads of silver light wove between her fingers. “Let us slow the storm, that he might see.”

Time bent around them. The storm dulled, its howls softening to murmurs.

Aria stepped forward alone. Her voice trembled but did not falter. “Zethraxis. It’s me. I know you’re still in there.”

The cocoon quivered. His head twitched, shadows pulsing in hesitation.

“I saw your pain,” she continued. “I know what it cost you to hold on to that grief. But you don’t have to bear it alone anymore.”

Her hand reached outward, trembling, bathed in light. The shadows recoiled, then paused.

“You tried to heal her,” Aria whispered. “You loved her. She knew. She always knew. But she would never have wanted you to become this.”

Cracks spread across the cocoon as thin veins of light bled through. Seraphina raised her voice, lending strength. “You are not only what you lost. You are what you choose to carry forward. Both light and shadow belong to you, Zethraxis.”

The shadows writhed, resisting. But they faltered, unravelling in slow wisps of black. At last his eyes opened—no longer abyssal, but threaded with gold and violet. His leonine features softened, marked not by monstrosity but by cosmic sorrow.

Weakened, he fell forward into Aria’s arms. His voice was hoarse, broken. “…you came back.”

“I never left you,” she whispered.

He looked to Seraphina. “I remember her voice now. My mother’s. She said I was never meant to carry it all.”

Seraphina bowed her head gently. “Now you carry both light and shadow, not as a curse, but as a gift. You survived the descent. That makes you something very rare in this universe.”

The storm around them stilled. For the first time, silence felt whole. Zethraxis rose again, though the remnants of shadow clung like bruises along his arms.

“I don’t feel greater,” he confessed. “I feel fractured.”

“Sometimes the ones meant to hold the stars are the ones most broken by them,” Seraphina replied softly. She turned her gaze outward, her voice lowering. “And the threads stir again. A prophecy lies deep within the loom. It speaks of her.”

Her words silenced even the stars.

“Syrofa Anarothron,” she said at last. “She sleeps in the abyss between time. But that slumber will not last. In five eons, her hunger will return. She will reach across the realms like wildfire through starlight.”

Zethraxis stiffened. “Then someone else—someone whole—should face her.”

“You are not whole,” Seraphina said, stepping closer. “And that is why the loom has chosen you. Not as a weapon of light. Not as a creature of shadow. But as the bridge between both.”

He lowered his gaze. “Then I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Seraphina answered. “Even in prophecy, the heart decides the path. The loom may guide, but it does not command.”

The weight of her words pressed against him, heavy as stars. At last, he whispered, “Then I will walk. Until I understand what I’m walking toward.”

“Then the cosmos still has hope,” Seraphina said quietly.

Back in the Celestial Council Hall, Zethraxis stood beside Aria. His form was steadier, though shadows lingered like fading scars. Seraphina stood before the council, her robes flowing like threads of starlight.

“A rift has been mended,” she told them, “but a tide rises in its place. Syrofa stirs. Her return is not a question of if, but when.”

The masters shifted uneasily. “And when she returns?” Master Selenar Lindale asked.

“She will eclipse worlds unless we stand united. Shadow and light, mortal and celestial. The old barriers must fall.”

Zethraxis lifted his head. “I was nearly lost to the dark within me, but I returned. If we face her as scattered sparks, we will burn out. But together…”

He turned to Aria, and she took his hand.

“…we become the constellation that can outshine even her void,” she finished.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Coralus Ryven rose to his feet. “Then let it be known. An Alliance is born this day. Our destinies entwine. For Terina-Hallin and the star systems of our galaxy. For every realm Syrofa would silence.”

One by one, the masters rose, their voices joining in solemn vow. Above them, the stars brightened in the dome, as though the cosmos itself approved.