Before them lay the Obsidian Wastes, a blighted scar upon the land. The ground was jagged and dead, the air sharp with an acrid smell that burned their throats. Above, the sky churned angry clouds, unnatural in movement and threatening. To the heart of this forsaken space, the Abyssal Maze laid its twisting paths, said to shred even the sturdiest of minds.
Seraphine, Garin, and Elara moved cautiously, every step a battle against the oppressive atmosphere. The warmth of Lysandra's blessing lingered faintly, a fragile barrier against the suffocating darkness. But it was fading, and with it, their sense of security.
"We're exposed out here," Garin said, his voice low as his eyes scanned the jagged terrain. His bow was drawn, an arrow resting against the string. "Feels like we're walking into a trap."
"We probably are," Seraphine replied, her tone grim. "The Shadow King won't let us reach the Void Gate without a fight."
Elara gripped her staff tightly, her face wary. "If the stories about the Abyssal Maze are true, then there is more to be feared than his forces. The maze twists reality. It feeds on your fears, your doubts. It's a place where even the light can be turned against you.
Seraphine met her gaze. Then we hold onto each other. No matter what we see, no matter what we hear, we don't let the maze tear us apart.
It was slow going across the Wastes. The ground was uneven, covered in jagged shards of obsidian that cut into their boots. The oppressive heat of the day gave way to an unnatural chill as the sun disappeared behind the swirling clouds. They moved in silence, each of them lost in thought upon the horizon, where the entrance to the Abyssal Maze loomed like a gaping wound in the earth.
The air around them seemed to hum with evil energy by the time they reached it. The entrance was a towering archway carved out of black stone, its surface etched in runes that pulsed with a faint eerie light.
"This is it," Elara said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Once we enter, there's no turning back."
Taking a deep breath, Seraphine gripped her sword tightly, her hand tightening around the hilt. "Keep close to my side. And recall that whatever we face within those walls, we're facing it together."
They crossed into the archway.
The Abyssal Maze lived up to its name. The walls had been polished from obsidian, and their surface reflected distorted images of the travelers as they moved through the labyrinth. Corridors twisted and turned in ways that defied logic-often doubling back on themselves or splitting into impossible angles.
"Left or right?" Garin asked as they reached a fork in the path.
Seraphine paused, reading the same words over and over. Her instincts drew her to the left, but doubt gnawed at the far reaches of her mind.
"Left," Elara said suddenly, her eyes closed as if she were listening to something audible only to her own ears. "There's. something directing us.
They followed her lead, the air growing colder with each step. Whispers began to echo through the corridors, faint and indistinct at first but growing louder and more insistent as they pressed on.
"Do you hear that?" Garin asked, his voice tense.
"Don't listen," Seraphine said firmly. "It's the maze trying to get into your head. Focus on each other."
The whispers soon turned into voices—familiar voices.
"Garin," a soft, mournful voice called. "You left us. You abandoned us."
Garin froze, his eyes wide as he scanned the corridor. "No," he whispered. "It's not real."
"Garin!" the voice screamed, filled with anguish. "You should have saved us!"
Seraphine grabbed his arm. "Keep moving! It's trying to break you."
He shook his head, his breathing ragged, but he forced himself to follow.
To Seraphine, the whispers of the maze came alive in another form:.
You can't hide what you are," the Shadow King's voice hissed, low and venomous. "You carry my blood, Seraphine. You are mine."
She gritted her jaw, her hand white-knuckled on her sword.
Elara suddenly gasped, her footsteps halting. "Stop!" she cried, pointing ahead.
At the heart of the corridor stood a figure wrapped in light, its form shimmering like a mirage. It looked like. her mother.
Elara," the figure said, its voice warm and familiar. "You have come so far, my child. But you cannot win this fight. Come with me. Rest."
Tears welled up in Elara's eyes, her steps faltering. "Mother?"
Seraphine stepped in front of her, sword raised. "It's not real. Don't let it distract you.
But Elara's sorrow was overwhelming, and the figure's light grew brighter, its voice more insistent. Seraphine didn't hesitate. She grabbed Elara by the shoulders and shook her.
"Focus, Elara! This is what the maze does—it feeds on your pain. You have to fight it."
With a shuddering breath, Elara nodded. The figure dissolved into mist, its illusion shattered by her resolve.
The trio continued, each step sullied by the depths of their oppression. The maze attacked them with everything it could: visions of their worst fears, echoes of their darkest memories, and twisted manifestations of one another whispering lies and sowing doubt. Yet, they clung to their trust, their unity, and their purpose.
Or perhaps days. Time had no meaning within its shifting walls. And then, at last, they emerged into a vast chamber at the maze's heart. In its center stood a massive obsidian door, its surface covered in the same glowing runes as the entrance.
"The Void Gate," Elara said, her voice trembling with both awe and dread.
Seraphine moved towards the door. Her hand hovered above the surface of it. "This is it," she said. "Beyond lies the nexus. The power of the Shadow King. His ending."
"But also the Void," Garin reminded her.
Seraphine turned to them with a resolute look on her face. "We've come too far to turn back now. Whatever happens, we do this.
With a deep breath, she pressed her hand against the door. The runes erupted into brilliance, and the gate swung open, revealing a churning vortex of darkness beyond. The air vibrated with raw power, and the pull of the Void was immediate and overwhelming.
Their final battle was about to begin.