Cain Voss stood at the edge of the execution platform, staring down into the swirling abyss. Cold iron shackles dug into his wrists, the weight a cruel reminder of his fate. Around him, dozens of others stood trembling—criminals, debtors, the sick, the weak. A few sobbed, others prayed, but most stood in resigned silence, their eyes hollow. They had accepted their end.

He refused to.

High above, the floating city of Elysium gleamed under its artificial sun. Golden bridges connected marble towers that stretched impossibly high, their polished surfaces reflecting the light like divine monuments. Cain had spent his life looking up at that city, knowing its wealth, its power, its arrogance. Now, he would leave it forever.

A voice echoed across the platform, amplified by arcane speakers embedded in the towering pillars that surrounded them. "By decree of the High Council, these forsaken souls are sentenced to the Abyss. Their failure to contribute to our great city has deemed them unworthy of its light. Let their suffering be a lesson to the strong."

Failure. That was the word they used. As if he had been given a chance to succeed.

The guards moved methodically, unshackling each prisoner one by one before shoving them forward. The first to fall screamed, their voices swallowed by the wind as their bodies disappeared into the swirling mist below. No final words. No last rites. Just silence.

A gloved hand clamped onto Cain's shoulder, shoving him forward. "No prayers for the damned."

The world vanished beneath him.

Air howled past his ears, ripping at his tattered clothes as gravity pulled him downward. Around him, others tumbled wildly, flailing as if they could somehow claw their way back up. The floating city above grew smaller, its golden spires becoming distant specks of light.

Cain twisted midair, arms and legs spreading to stabilize himself. He had always been fast, agile, good at surviving. This was no different. Panic killed. He had to focus.

The mist parted below, revealing the ruins of something ancient. Vast skeletal remains of a lost civilization sprawled across the abyss floor—blackened stone, shattered towers, broken bridges hanging over endless darkness. Enormous structures lay half-buried in the mist, their architecture nothing like the polished elegance of Elysium. Some of the ruins floated eerily, massive slabs of stone suspended by forces unseen.

His eyes caught movement to his left. A man was falling out of control, limbs flailing. He struck a jagged outcropping of rock with a sickening crunch, his body bouncing once before tumbling limply into the depths. Another prisoner landed on the remnants of a bridge, only for the structure to collapse beneath him, dragging him screaming into the void.

Cain gritted his teeth. He had seconds to act. His trajectory was taking him toward a slanted ruin, a half-collapsed coliseum with exposed metal beams jutting outward like broken ribs. It was his only chance.

Five seconds.

Four.

He reached for a rusted beam as it rushed toward him, his fingers stretching toward the corroded metal—

Three.

His grip caught.

The force ripped through his arm, jerking his entire body. Pain shot through his shoulder as he swung hard around the beam, his momentum snapping downward.

Two.

His feet slammed against cracked stone, but the impact was too much. His legs buckled, sending him rolling down the slanted ruins. He gritted his teeth and tucked his body, minimizing the damage as he tumbled through dust and debris.

One.

He came to a stop on a flat surface, chest heaving, muscles screaming from the impact. His shoulder burned, his fingers raw, but nothing was broken. He was alive.

Around him, the others weren't as lucky. Broken bodies lay scattered across the ruins, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Those who had survived the fall groaned in agony, clutching shattered bones, crawling for shelter. They wouldn't last the night.

The mist curled around the ruins, thick and unnatural. It clung to the air like something alive, distorting shapes, twisting shadows into strange illusions. It swallowed sound, muffling the distant cries of the dying.

Then he heard it.

A deep, guttural breath.

Not human.

Cain froze, his fingers tightening around a loose chunk of stone. The sound came from the mist, slow and deliberate, as if something vast was inhaling, tasting the air.

The mist shifted. Shapes moved within it—long, unnatural limbs dragging across the stone, jagged figures slipping through the ruins without a sound. Their movements were wrong, their bodies bending at angles that no living thing should.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

The Abyss wasn't empty.

A ragged scream cut through the silence. One of the survivors, a woman, had stumbled into the open. Blood seeped through her torn clothing, her leg twisted from the fall. She was trying to crawl away, gasping for breath, oblivious to the figures closing in behind her.

Cain clenched his jaw. Get out. Run now.

But it was too late.

The mist parted, revealing the creatures fully for the first time.

Twisted, humanoid figures with elongated limbs and sharpened bone-like fingers. Their skin stretched too tight over their frames, their eyeless sockets leaking black ichor. Their mouths were jagged slits, smiling as they loomed over the helpless woman.

The first one struck, slashing across her back in a single motion. Blood splattered across the stone. She screamed, flailing, but another creature grabbed her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly.

Cain pressed himself against the ruins, forcing himself to stay silent. If they hunted by sound, he could use the ruins to slip away.

The woman's body convulsed once, then went still.

The creatures tore into her.

The wet sound of flesh ripping, of bones cracking, made bile rise in his throat. He swallowed it down. This was not his fight. If he moved now, he could slip past them, find shelter, survive.

One of the creatures froze.

Its head snapped in his direction.

Cain's breath hitched.

The thing took a single, shuddering step forward, its eyeless face tilting as it sniffed the air. It had sensed him.

His hand moved instinctively, fingers closing around a rusted metal rod half-buried in the rubble. His heart pounded in his chest.

The creature lunged.

Cain ran.

The moment he moved, the others shrieked, their elongated limbs snapping toward him like whips. He sprinted through the ruins, dodging crumbling pillars, leaping over debris. The mist blurred the landscape, shifting the ruins, distorting his path.

A beast lunged from the side. He barely ducked as a claw raked across his shoulder, shredding fabric. He swung the metal rod in a wild arc, the impact cracking against bone—but the creature barely flinched.

He stumbled, breath ragged. They were circling him now.

The ruins fell away into a bottomless chasm behind him. No escape.

The creatures inched closer, breath rasping with unnatural hunger. One stepped forward, claws reaching out—

The ground shook.

A deep, ancient tremor rumbled beneath the ruins. The mist swirled violently, as if something massive had stirred. The creatures froze, their heads snapping upward.

Cain felt it. Something was waking.

The stone beneath his feet cracked.

The next moment, the ruins collapsed.

Cain's world tilted as the ground crumbled beneath him. He barely had time to grab onto a broken ledge before he was yanked downward.

As he fell into the darkness, the last thing he saw was the vague shape of something colossal, buried beneath the ruins.

Something not dead.

Then the world turned black.