The aftermath of the Dreadspire's destruction rippled across Nithrax-7 and beyond. The sky, once a crimson shroud of chaos, now shimmered with hues of pale silver and gray. Maraak stood amidst the rubble, his boots crunching on fragments of stone and shattered obsidian. An unnerving silence that gnawed at the corners of his thoughts had replaced the suffocating presence of the Abyss.
At his side, Nyxbrand, who had previously spoken of unending ambition and hunger, now sat motionless. Faintly, as if fighting to regain their previous splendor, its runes flickered. The blade was silent for the first time in centuries. Its absence was acute to Maraak, like the abrupt loss of an obtrusive friend.
The emptiness inside him was reflected in the surrounding devastation. The Abyss had molded his life—its whispers, its promises, its never-ending thirst for blood. He felt freed from its hold, a nomad in a galaxy that no longer held the same significance.
He looked around the desolate area. A thin blanket of mist softened the edges of the craggy peaks that loomed against the horizon in the distance. The wasteland stretched endlessly in all directions, its surface scarred by the echoes of ancient wars and recent calamities. The ground beneath his feet was still warm from the eruption of the Dreadspire's core, a reminder of the power he had unleashed.
A faint, repetitive sound—a steady drumming that got louder with every second—broke the silence as he stepped forward. Maraak stiffened, reaching for Nyxbrand's hand out of reflex. With a feeble flicker, the blade seemed to recognize his discomfort.
A person rose from the fog, its outline becoming more distinct with each stride. Its movements were purposeful yet fluent, and although being humanoid, it had an air of otherness. Cloaked in ragged garments, the figure's edges were frayed and smeared with blood and soot. Its features, but not the intensity of its gaze, were obscured by a mask of finely carved bone.
The figure, with a serene yet purposeful stance, halted a few steps away from Maraak. It held up a hand in a peace gesture, palm out.
With a voice that seemed to reverberate in his own soul, the figure spoke, "Maraak, the Reaver of Shadows." "What no one before you could do, you have done. The cycle is interrupted, and the Abyss is shattered. However, the cosmos is still not free.
Maraak squinted his eyes. "Who are you?"
The apparition said, lowering its hand, "I am a remnant."" A piece of what was gone when the Abyss's initial rise occurred. You can refer to me as Asraya. Maraak, I have come to lead you after observing your journey.
"Lead me?" With a sneer, Maraak tightened his hold on Nyxbrand. "I don't require a mentor. The Abyss has vanished. I've finished my work.
The mask's empty sockets seemed to puncture Asraya's head as they tilted it. "Do you really think that?"
The ground shook beneath them before Maraak could react. A wave of shadow started to sweep across the landscape, and the horizon grew darker as a deep, resonant hum filled the air. Thickened, the mist coiled into shapes that twisted and writhed with strange life.
Despite the increasing pandemonium, Asraya's voice remained steady as they stated, "The Abyss was not a singular entity." "It was a wound, a tear in the fabric of existence. What you destroyed was merely its heart, but its echoes remain. They will fester and grow unless they are silenced."
Maraak turned to face the encroaching darkness, his jaw tightening. "And you think I'll tidy up the mess?"
Asraya stepped next to him and stated, "I don't have any expectations." However, the decision is still up to you. You have broken the bonds that held you back, but liberation has a price. Will you rise again to complete what you started, or will you leave the galaxy to the remains of the Abyss?
Reaching out like grabbing hands, the shadow wave surged closer. It was a sharp reminder of the Abyss's persistent existence, and Maraak could sense the icy, alien rage radiating from it. Nyxbrand's runes flickered like a fading flame as it pulsed faintly in his grasp.
A hoarse snarl escaped his lips. "All right. However, I'm doing it my way this time.
With renewed resolve, Maraak brought Nyxbrand up. In response, the sword glowed weakly, its power diminished but not gone. Despite his weariness, he moved fluidly and precisely as he charged into the approaching wave.
He responded to the initial tendrils' attempts to ensnare him with quick, forceful blows. With each stroke, Nyxbrand's runes ignited as it sliced into the dark mass. As they were defeated, the remains of the Abyss screamed in defiance, their shapes vanishing into vapors of smoke.
Asraya trailed behind him, their hands creating elaborate designs in the atmosphere. Their movements emitted beams of light that split the shadows and pierced the night. As they carved out a path through the approaching wave, their combined efforts acted as a beacon of defiance against the residual chaos.
The battle was difficult because the shadows were attacking all the time. Each tendril they killed seemed to be replaced by another, and the remnants of the Abyss seemed to be merging into new, twisted shapes. Maraak's movements slowed, and his attacks became less precise as the strain of the fight began to wear him down.
"Hold fast, Reaver," Asraya shouted, their voice rising above the commotion. "The source is not far away."
Despite his muscles burning, Maraak gritted his teeth and pushed forward. A dark, unholy light pulsed through the form of a nexus of shadow that he could see in the distance. The core of the remnants.
With a final surge of strength, he broke through the last line of tendrils, standing before the nexus. Its presence was overwhelming, a concentrated mass of malevolence that seemed to warp reality around it.
"This is it," Asraya said, stepping beside him. The last echo. The galaxy will be cleansed of the Abyss's taint if it is destroyed.
With a nod, Maraak lifted Nyxbrand for the last blow. As if he were collecting strength from his determination, the blade blazed with fresh brilliance.
He roared as he drove the blade into the nexus, its runes burning as fiercely as the sun. The nexus let out a deafening wail, its form convulsing and collapsing as Nyxbrand's energy consumed it.
The ground shook violently, cracks spreading across the landscape as the nexus imploded. A wave of light erupted from the point of impact, washing over the wasteland and dispersing the lingering shadows.
As the light dimmed, Maraak stood among the rubble, his body shaking with fatigue and his breath coming in short gasps. Nyxbrand was quiet again, its runes faint yet unwavering.
Asraya came toward him, surveying the cleared horizon with their mask cocked upward. "Reaver, you've succeeded. The Abyss has vanished.
Maraak laughed bitterly and softly. "What comes next? For someone like me, what's left?
Asraya touched his shoulder, and it was unexpectedly warm. "Maraak, you've been granted another chance. It is up to you to decide on the next course.
Maraak experienced optimism for the first time in centuries. The galaxy was huge, and even though his past was filled with blood, he had never dared to think of the possibilities that lay ahead.
Maraak sheathed Nyxbrand and took one last look at the horizon before starting to move, his strides heavy but deliberate. It was an unknown route, but for the first time, he could walk it as he saw fit.