The wind howled through the trees as Asher approached the camp, his body tense and his mind buzzing with the events that had transpired in the Abyss. The forest, once a place of quiet solace, now felt suffocating. Shadows twisted unnaturally, and the faint rustling of leaves seemed to whisper his name. Every step forward felt like it was pulling him deeper into an unknown threat, as if the forest itself had taken on a sinister life of its own.
Asher gripped the artifact tightly, its warmth the only thing that kept him grounded. Kiella would be there, waiting. He could picture her face—determined, yet always softened by the worry she tried to hide. But something gnawed at him. What would she think when she saw him now? He could still feel the coldness from his wound, a chilling reminder that the Abyss had left its mark. How much of him had it claimed?
Suddenly, the forest shifted. The trees groaned as though alive, their limbs twisting and interlocking above him like the bars of a cage. The path ahead narrowed into a dark, oppressive tunnel, and an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him. He tried to focus, pushing forward, but the artifact in his hand flickered, its glow dimming with each step. The shadows grew thicker, closing in, until they seemed to press against his skin.
Without warning, a voice—low and distorted—echoed from the darkness.
"Asher…"
He froze, heart pounding. It was the same voice from the Abyss, but it was here now, outside the rift, stalking him.
"You thought you could leave it behind," the voice continued, dripping with malice. "But you carry it with you. The Abyss follows you, Asher. It owns you."
He turned, drawing his sword, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. But the forest was silent, unnervingly so. Even the wind had died, leaving only the voice to fill the empty space.
"You're lying," Asher said through gritted teeth, though doubt curled in his gut. "I'm not yours."
The voice laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "You are, Asher. The moment you stepped into the Abyss, you became part of it. And now, it's spreading."
Asher took a step back, his breath catching in his throat. The shadows around him pulsed, shifting as if alive. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, but something felt wrong. His hand trembled, the coldness from his wound creeping up his arm, spreading like ice beneath his skin. He could feel the Abyss inside him—like a sliver of darkness that had burrowed deep into his soul, waiting to take hold.
Suddenly, the artifact in his hand flared to life, its light bursting through the shadows, momentarily pushing them back. Asher felt a surge of energy course through him, the divine power of the gods burning away the cold that threatened to consume him. He took a deep breath, using the artifact's power to steady himself.
But the moment of reprieve was short-lived. From the shadows, figures began to emerge—twisted, monstrous shapes that barely resembled anything human. Their forms flickered like glitches in reality, distorted and fragmented, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light. These were no ordinary creatures. They were something born from the Abyss, like the shadow that had taken his form. But these were worse—more chaotic, more unstable, like fragments of nightmares made real.
The first creature lunged at him with terrifying speed, its limbs contorting in impossible angles as it charged. Asher barely had time to raise his sword before the creature was upon him. His blade met its twisted form with a sickening crunch, but instead of recoiling, the creature exploded into a swarm of black tendrils that wrapped around his arm, pulling him off balance.
With a snarl, Asher slashed through the tendrils, his sword cutting through the dark mass like butter, but they reformed almost instantly, writhing like snakes. Another creature lunged from the side, its jagged claws swiping at his chest. Asher twisted, narrowly avoiding the attack, but the tendrils continued to drag him down, slowing his movements.
The voice from the shadows returned, mocking him. "You cannot win, Asher. The Abyss is endless. It is everywhere."
He felt panic rise in his chest. The creatures were relentless, their forms constantly shifting, regenerating with each strike he landed. His sword, once a beacon of divine power, seemed to be losing its effectiveness against the chaotic nature of these monsters. The coldness from his wound pulsed again, stronger this time, and he could feel his body slowing, his vision blurring.
In the distance, he heard a faint cry—a familiar voice that cut through the noise.
"Asher!"
Kiella. She was close, too close. If she saw what was happening—if she saw the darkness inside him—he didn't know if he could bear it.
But there was no time to think. The creatures pressed in on him, and Asher realized with a chilling certainty that he was being driven toward her. The Abyss wasn't just after him—it wanted her too. The thought sent a surge of desperation through him, and he fought harder, his sword glowing once more as he channeled the last of the gods' power into it.
With a furious roar, he unleashed a burst of energy, a wave of divine light that blasted the creatures back, disintegrating their forms in a flash of brilliance. The tendrils that had gripped him evaporated, and for a moment, the path ahead cleared.
But then he saw it.
Just beyond the line of trees, Kiella stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock. She had seen everything—the creatures, the battle, the shadowy tendrils that had clung to him.
And worst of all, she had seen the mark.
His sleeve had been torn in the fight, exposing the wound on his arm. The dark veins that spiraled out from the cut glowed faintly, a clear sign of the Abyss's corruption. Kiella's gaze was locked on it, her expression a mixture of fear and disbelief.
"Asher… what happened to you?"
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through him like a blade. He could see the pain in her eyes, the uncertainty, the questions she didn't dare ask.
"I…" Asher's throat tightened. He didn't have the words. How could he explain something he didn't fully understand? How could he tell her that the Abyss had touched him, that it had left a stain on his soul?
Before he could answer, the ground beneath them began to tremble. The forest shuddered as if something deep beneath the earth had awakened. The shadows that had retreated now surged forward again, faster and more violently, as if sensing weakness. The voice returned, louder this time, booming from every direction.
"You cannot run, Asher. The Abyss claims all."
The ground cracked open beneath his feet, a dark chasm splitting the earth as tendrils of shadow erupted from it, reaching for Kiella.
Asher's instincts kicked in. Without thinking, he lunged forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the way just as the tendrils slammed into the spot where she had been standing. They both tumbled to the ground, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. But he didn't let go of her, holding on as the shadows closed in around them.
Kiella's eyes were wide with terror as she looked at him, her voice trembling. "Asher, what's happening? What is this?"
"I don't know," he gasped, his mind racing. "But we need to move. Now."
He pulled her to her feet, and together they ran, the forest warping and twisting around them. The trees bent at unnatural angles, the ground cracked and shifted, and the shadows followed them like a living entity, hungry and relentless.
But as they fled, Asher could feel the cold creeping up his arm again, spreading faster now, seeping into his chest, his heart. His strength was fading. The Abyss was inside him, and it was winning.
And for the first time since this nightmare had begun, Asher realized the horrifying truth.
He might not be able to stop it.
Not this time.