The forest was unnaturally quiet as Aric stood before the map, the faint glowing symbols still dancing in his mind. His heart raced as he absorbed the weight of the decision he had just made. There was no turning back now; the Abyss had already marked him. Whether he was ready or not, the path ahead was his to walk.
The figure in the indigo cloak was gone, vanishing into the shadows as silently as they had appeared. All that remained was the eerie hum of the forest and the growing tension in Aric's chest. His beast, always alert, stood at his side, its head low, eyes flickering with an unreadable intensity. The bond between them had always been strong, but after the battle with the dragon, something had shifted. The air felt thicker around them, as if the beast could sense the change in Aric, the deeper connection to the Abyss that was now a part of him.
Aric glanced down at the glowing map once more, its symbols seared into his mind. The locations it showed were unfamiliar, distant places filled with promise and danger. The Abyss was not just a force—it was a world of its own, one that Aric had only glimpsed in flashes. And now, the map was his guide to finding the others like him, the other Beastmasters marked by the Abyss.
But there was something more. A memory, half-forgotten, began to resurface at the edge of his mind. It had always been there, a faint whisper in the back of his consciousness, but now it felt clearer, sharper. A long-lost face. A name that stirred something deep within him. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, but the feeling lingered.
"Let's move," Aric murmured to his beast, his voice tinged with both urgency and resolve. They couldn't stay here forever. The Abyss was patient, but it would not wait indefinitely. It was time to seek answers, and to do that, he had to leave the safety of the forest behind.
The days that followed were a blur of travel, each step taking him further from the forest and deeper into a world that felt increasingly alien. The map in his mind burned with clarity, guiding him toward distant cities and forgotten ruins, each location a puzzle piece in the larger mystery of the Abyss. His journey was not an easy one. The road was fraught with danger, both from the beasts that roamed the land and from the shadows that followed him—shadows that he could not fully understand but knew were always just behind him, watching.
As they traveled, Aric's beast remained a constant companion. Their bond had only grown stronger since the battle with the dragon, and the creature seemed to sense when danger was near, its instincts now far sharper than ever. Aric's own powers, too, seemed to be shifting. He could feel the presence of the Abyss inside him, like a whisper in his blood. At times, it felt almost like a voice, calling to him, urging him forward, but he could never quite make out the words.
It wasn't until they reached the edge of a ruined city that the true nature of the Abyss revealed itself to him.
The city, long abandoned, stood in eerie silence. Its buildings were crumbling, half-sunken into the earth, as if the very ground had rejected them. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, the remnants of ancient power still lingering in the decaying stone.
Aric stood at the city's edge, the map pulsing faintly in his mind, urging him to enter. His beast growled low, uneasy at the heavy atmosphere. Aric could feel the weight of the place, as though the city itself was watching them. The Abyss was present here—he could feel it, deep in his bones.
"There's something here," Aric said quietly, more to himself than to the beast. "Something waiting."
The beast's ears perked, and it stepped forward, a low growl rumbling from its chest. Aric followed, his hand on the hilt of his dagger, his senses sharpened. The deeper they went into the city, the more oppressive the air became. There was an ancient energy here, a power that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
They reached the center of the city, where the remains of a large temple loomed. Its once-grand entrance was now nothing more than a crumbled archway, its pillars broken and twisted, as though they had been shattered by some cataclysmic force. But despite the ruin, there was an undeniable sense of something ancient, something powerful, that still radiated from the site.
Aric stepped forward, and that was when he heard it. A voice, distant yet clear, echoing in the empty streets. It wasn't the voice of the Abyss—the whisper that had followed him—but something else, something older, more familiar.
"Aric Thornfield..." the voice called, its tone like the rustling of leaves in a storm. "You have come... but are you ready for the truth?"
Aric froze, his heart skipping a beat. The voice seemed to come from all around him, and yet, when he looked around, he saw no one. Only the ruins. Only the darkness.
"Who's there?" Aric called, his voice steady, though his heart was pounding. He had learned long ago that in a world like this, nothing was ever truly as it seemed.
The voice didn't answer immediately, but the air grew heavier, as though the very space around him was pressing in, suffocating him with a weight of power. And then, as if the world had shifted on its axis, a figure appeared before him.
The figure was cloaked in shadow, its form flickering like a flame in the wind. It was tall, its face obscured by a hood, but there was something familiar about the shape, the way it stood. The presence felt... ancient, as though it had always been here, watching, waiting.
"Who are you?" Aric demanded, his hand tightening on his dagger. He didn't know why, but something about the figure made his instincts flare. It was both a threat and a revelation, like a door opening to something he wasn't sure he wanted to see.
The figure did not answer immediately. Instead, it raised its hand, and the shadows around them seemed to bend and warp, forming shapes and patterns in the air. Images—flashes of memories, of battles long past—appeared before Aric's eyes.
"I am the keeper of the old ways," the figure finally spoke, its voice a low, rumbling echo that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself. "I am the one who remembers the truths that have been buried. And I know what you are."
Aric's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, what I am?"
The figure's gaze, though hidden beneath the hood, felt as if it pierced through him, reading every thought, every fear. "You are a Beastmaster, yes. But you are more than that. You are the heir of the Abyss, the one who will rise to either destroy or command it. The choice is yours, but the path ahead is not an easy one."
The figure stepped forward, its form becoming clearer, though still obscured by shadow. "But first, you must face your past, Aric Thornfield. You must remember what has been forgotten. Only then can you truly understand what you have become—and what the Abyss demands of you."
The words struck Aric like a blow. His heart raced as the memories that had long been buried in the recesses of his mind began to stir. Faces he had forgotten. A life he had once lived, before everything had changed. The memories were fragments—shards of a life that had been torn away by fate.
"Remember…," the figure whispered, its voice now a soft, chilling wind. "You have already chosen, but the question remains—are you ready to face the consequences of your choice?"
The shadows swirled around Aric, and for the first time, he felt truly alone. The past had come to claim him. And the Abyss, with all its power and darkness, was waiting for him to decide.