A bitter chill settled in the cavern, sinking deep into Alex's skin as the last remnants of abyssal mist faded into nothing. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, a suffocating emptiness where something unseen still lurked, watching. The Nightfangs had disappeared into the darkness, yet their absence did not bring relief. If anything, the space felt even more unnatural, as though the creatures had merely been the first test—an introduction to something far worse.
Alex exhaled, steadying his trembling hands. He could still feel it—the ghostly pulse of something vast slumbering beneath his skin, something that had nearly consumed him. It had been instinctive, raw, undeniable. A power that had surged through him without hesitation, without effort. And that was what unsettled him the most. It had not felt foreign. It had felt natural. As if it had been waiting for him all along.
He clenched his fists, forcing his thoughts away from the sensation and onto his next move. He needed to find a way out. The only visible source of light—a faint, bluish glow from above—shimmered through the cracks in the cavern ceiling. It was distant but reachable. If he could climb, if he could push through the aches and exhaustion weighing him down, then maybe he could escape. Maybe he could get answers.
He took a step forward, his boot scraping against the rough stone. Something shifted beneath him. A dull clatter echoed through the cavern. Alex froze. Slowly, he crouched, fingers brushing against an object dry and brittle. A bone. Not fresh, but old enough to crumble at his touch. His stomach twisted as he scanned the ground. There were more. Scattered fragments, remnants of something—or someone—who had been here before him. The Nightfangs had been hunting. That much was clear. But had they been hunting him? Or was he just the next in a long line of victims?
The thought sent an icy shiver down his spine. He pushed himself back up and continued forward, each step slow and deliberate. The cavern stretched on, vast and lifeless, yet it felt anything but empty. The silence, thick as fog, pressed against him like a tangible force. It was not the absence of sound, but something deeper, something watching. The sensation gnawed at the edges of his mind, sending a pulse of unease through his body. Then, without warning, his vision blurred. The cavern flickered. A wave of dizziness washed over him, pulling him under.
Warmth. It was the first thing he felt, gentle and golden, a stark contrast to the bitter cold of the cavern. The scent of old books filled the air, ink and dust mingling with something faintly sweet. The crackling of a fireplace hummed in the distance. He knew this place. He shouldn't have, but he did. A wooden table sat in front of him, worn but sturdy, its surface littered with open books. The air was thick with the quiet hum of pages turning, of calm, uninterrupted time. It was peaceful. Ordinary. Safe.
It was a lie.
The warmth shattered like fragile glass, replaced by suffocating cold. A fist slammed into his ribs. He gasped, the impact sending a sharp wave of pain through his body as he hit the pavement. Laughter echoed around him. Cruel. Familiar.
"Pathetic," a voice sneered.
Alex curled inward, his arms instinctively shielding his torso. He didn't make a sound. He had learned long ago that reacting only made it worse.
"Got nothing to say, orphan?" Another voice, sharper, taunting.
Fingers gripped his shirt, hauling him up only to shove him back down. The rough pavement scraped against his skin. A foot pressed against his chest, pinning him in place. He stared up at the sky. Grey. Cloudless. Empty. No one was coming. No one ever did.
The pain didn't bother him. The words did.
Darkness slammed into him like a wave, yanking him back to the cavern. He staggered, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. His hands trembled at his sides, fingers twitching with the memory of clenched fists and distant voices. The past was supposed to be gone. Forgotten. Buried. But it was still there, lurking beneath the surface like a wound that refused to heal. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. He wasn't weak anymore. Not here. And yet, the fear lingered, an old habit that refused to be ignored.
Then, a whisper.
"You have suffered."
The words did not come from his own mind. They did not belong to him. His breath stilled. The cavern walls seemed to close in, the air thickening, pressing against his lungs.
"You have been cast aside."
His heart pounded against his ribs. The voice was neither distant nor close, neither loud nor soft. It simply existed, slipping through the cracks in his thoughts like oil spreading through water.
"You are weak. But you could be more."
The shadows around him shifted. He took a step back, his foot skimming loose stone. A figure emerged from the darkness. It had no face, no features—just an absence of light where a person should be. And yet, Alex felt its gaze. Cold. Measured. Expectant.
"Give yourself to the abyss."
His stomach twisted. The whisper was inside him now, curling through his thoughts like a slow-moving poison. The darkness stretched toward him, curling at the edges of his vision. The ground beneath his feet crumbled. His body tipped forward. Falling.
He had seen this before. Felt it before. The night he had been taken.
The voices grew louder. Layers upon layers, merging, twisting, overlapping.
He could hear them.
Hundreds of them.
Calling.
"Come to us."
His chest constricted. Something inside him fractured, and the abyss opened its maw.
Cold swallowed him whole. His body was weightless, plummeting through endless black. He reached out, grasping for something, anything, but there was nothing to hold onto. The abyss was infinite, and he was sinking into it. The chill was unbearable, seeping into his bones.
"You were born in the light. But the light has given you nothing."
The voice was everywhere. Inside him. Around him. A part of him.
"Step forward."
His skin burned.
"The abyss has chosen you."
The cold became fire, licking through his veins. His mind screamed, but no sound left his throat. The abyss was consuming him.
"Give yourself—"
Something shattered.
The void cracked, splitting apart like fractured glass.
"The chains tremble."
Alex hit the ground with a force that rattled his bones. He gasped, air rushing into his lungs as reality reassembled itself around him. Stone. Blood. The cavern. He was back. His chest heaved, his limbs shaking from the effort of existing. But something had changed.
He could still hear it.
Still feel it.
The abyss had not let go. And this time, it never would.
He didn't know how long he lay there, his body caught in the aftermath of something he didn't understand. The whispers had faded, but they had not vanished. They had settled within him, waiting. Watching.
He pushed himself up, ignoring the ache in his limbs. The glow from above was still there, faint but unmoving. A reminder that there was still a way out. He had no answers. No direction.
But that had never stopped him before.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, set his jaw, and started climbing. No more waiting. No more hesitation. The abyss was watching. And he was ready to meet it.