The dawn came in muted shades of gray, a weak light filtering through the thick canopy of trees as though the world itself recoiled from what had happened. The clearing was eerily silent, the scent of blood and death hanging in the air, clinging to the dampness of the earth. Valthar sat on a stone, his head in his hands, his body still trembling from the dark power he had unleashed.
He stared at his blood-soaked hands, his fingers stained with the remnants of the Reavers he had butchered. His heart pounded in his chest, a sickening mix of adrenaline and nausea swirling in his gut. He couldn't shake the images of their mangled bodies, the sound of bones snapping, flesh tearing, and their final gasps for breath as he tore them apart with the shadow of the Abyss.
*This isn't who I am,* he told himself, over and over again, but the truth of it was beginning to unravel.
Serra had remained quiet since the end of the battle. She stood a few feet away, her sword sheathed, her eyes fixed on him but with a look of hesitation. She had seen what he had become in those final moments. The raw, brutal violence. The darkness. He didn't need to ask if she was afraid; he could see it in her eyes.
"Valthar…" Serra's voice finally broke the silence, soft and uncertain. "What happened back there…? That power. It wasn't just the Abyss, was it?"
He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. His throat burned from the scream that had ripped through him in the heat of the fight, the primal rage that had taken control of him. He had tried to push the Abyss away, but in the end, it had found a way to slip through. And once it had, it was as if something darker, something far more vicious had awoken within him.
"I couldn't stop it," Valthar said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He looked up at Serra, his eyes hollow. "I tried, but… it's stronger now. The more I use it, the more it takes."
Serra moved closer, but cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. "We've fought creatures of the Abyss before, Valthar, but I've never seen you like that. You… you didn't just kill them. You tore them apart. I could feel the darkness—like it was feeding off of you."
Valthar exhaled sharply, his chest tightening with the weight of her words. He couldn't deny it. He *had* felt the Abyss feeding, like a parasite clinging to his soul, growing stronger with each drop of blood spilled. It had been intoxicating, the raw, unfiltered power surging through his veins, pushing him to the brink of madness. And in that moment, he hadn't cared. He had wanted more. He had wanted to *destroy*.
"It's getting worse," Valthar admitted, running a shaking hand through his hair. "Every time I use it, it's harder to pull back. It's like… like I'm losing myself to it."
Serra's face softened, though there was still a flicker of fear in her eyes. "There has to be a way to stop it. We'll find someone, a healer or a sorcerer—"
"No," Valthar cut her off, his voice sharp. He stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away, his hands clenched into fists. "There's no curing this, Serra. The Abyss doesn't work like that. It consumes everything it touches. Once you let it in, it's with you forever."
Serra shook her head, refusing to accept it. "That can't be true. There has to be something—"
"You don't know what it's like!" Valthar snapped, his voice raw with frustration. He turned to face her, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't know what it feels like to have it inside you, whispering in your mind, crawling under your skin. It's… it's *alive*, Serra. It's not just some power. It's a part of me now."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Serra's eyes were wide, her lips pressed into a thin line as she absorbed his words. She had always been strong, always been the one to anchor him when he felt like he was slipping, but even now, she looked uncertain, as if she no longer knew how to reach him.
After a long pause, she spoke again, her voice quiet. "Then what do we do? We can't keep going like this. If the Abyss is taking over… you'll lose yourself, Valthar. You'll become like Kaelion."
The mention of his brother's name sent a fresh wave of anger crashing through him, and he slammed his fist into the nearest tree, the bark splintering under the force. "I'm *nothing* like him."
Serra flinched at his outburst but didn't back down. "Aren't you?" she asked softly, her voice laced with a deep sadness. "Look at what you've done. The way you killed those Reavers… that's what Kaelion did to your family, isn't it?"
Valthar froze, her words hitting him like a physical blow. The memories came flooding back—his family's blood-stained bodies, the broken remnants of his home, the sound of his brother's laughter as he tore their world apart with the same dark power. It had been so similar. Too similar.
He doubled over, a wave of nausea twisting his stomach. Was this the path he was destined to follow? The same path that had led Kaelion to slaughter their family, to betray everything they had once believed in?
"I won't become him," Valthar muttered, more to himself than to Serra. His voice shook with the effort of the lie. "I won't."
But deep down, a part of him knew the truth. The Abyss didn't care about his intentions. It didn't care about his willpower or his hatred for his brother. It only cared about control.
Serra stepped closer, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Then we need to find a way to stop this. Before it's too late."
Valthar wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that there was a way out of this nightmare, that he could somehow rid himself of the Abyss before it consumed him entirely. But with each passing day, the darkness crept closer, sinking its claws deeper into his soul.
The sound of distant footsteps broke the moment, and both Valthar and Serra tensed, their hands moving to their weapons. They turned toward the source of the noise, their eyes scanning the tree line for movement.
Figures emerged from the shadows, their footsteps slow and deliberate. At first, it was impossible to tell if they were friend or foe, but as they came into the light, Valthar's heart sank.
They wore the dark, tattered robes of Kaelion's acolytes. Their eyes glowed with the same Abyssal power that Valthar had just unleashed. And leading them, his face hidden beneath a black hood, was a figure Valthar recognized all too well.
Varak, Kaelion's most loyal servant.
"Valthar," Varak's voice was low, a rasping sound like the grinding of stone. "Your brother sends his regards."
Before Valthar could react, Varak raised his hand, and a wave of dark energy shot forward, slamming into Valthar and Serra with bone-shattering force. They were thrown back, crashing into the ground, the wind knocked from their lungs.
Valthar struggled to rise, his vision swimming, pain radiating through his body. Varak's acolytes were advancing, their hands crackling with dark energy, their eyes fixed on him with predatory intent.
"You've been a thorn in our master's side for far too long," Varak said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "But now… it's time for you to embrace your destiny."
Valthar's chest tightened, his heart pounding in his ears. He could feel the Abyss stirring inside him, hungry, eager to be unleashed once more. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as he pushed himself to his feet.
But this time, there was no hesitation.
This time, he would let the darkness consume them all.
The Abyss surged forward, and the world descended into chaos.