Chapter 13

Elliot returned to the Old Chapel, feeling the weight of the shard he had claimed. In his real world, it was already past midnight, but he barely felt the exhaustion. Victorian Abyss had a strange grip on him, a pull that grew stronger with every step he took in its dark, haunted world. The echoes of the Wraith's hollow, lifeless eyes were still fresh in his mind, and a vague unease clung to him as he pushed open the chapel door and stepped into the cool, mist-laden night outside.

Valerian glanced up at the sky, taking in the Victorian cityscape that sprawled before him, its shadows stretching long under the dim streetlights. He could feel a coldness in the air, a sensation that crept through his skin and settled in his bones. Spectre was by his side, a silent figure blending into the night, his gaze fixated on the distant spires and alleyways that seemed to pulse with secrets.

"Where to now?" Valerian's voice was low, wary.

Spectre turned his head slightly, his hood casting an even darker shadow over his face. "The Abyss doesn't reveal itself all at once. It's a maze, with each piece connected to the next. There's a man you need to find, someone with knowledge of these shards. But he's not the kind of person you just walk up to. He guards his secrets as closely as the Abyss guards its shards."

Valerian raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?"

Spectre hesitated, his gaze growing sharper. "They call him the Collector. He gathers artifacts, relics, anything that seems… out of place here. And in this world, he's the only one who understands what the shards truly are."

The Collector. Valerian felt a ripple of intrigue and dread. He'd heard the name mentioned a few times on the forums, but details were scarce. The players who claimed to have met the Collector all shared one thing: a haunted look, as if they'd glimpsed something they weren't supposed to.

"Where do I find him?" Valerian asked.

Spectre gestured toward a narrow alleyway leading into the deeper parts of the city. "There's a place called the Night Market, a hidden district that opens only at midnight. It's filled with characters you'd be wise to avoid—but that's where the Collector hides."

They began their walk down the alley, the mist thickening as they moved. The cobblestones underfoot were slick with rain, and the faint hum of distant voices drifted toward them. The streets became narrower, lined with decrepit buildings and flickering gaslights that cast ghostly shadows along the walls.

The Night Market revealed itself as they rounded a corner. It was tucked away behind the main streets, hidden from sight. A long row of tents and stalls stretched out before them, filled with peculiar wares—strange talismans, ancient weapons, exotic potions that shimmered under the lamplight. Hooded figures shuffled through the stalls, their faces hidden, their eyes glowing with faint hues. The atmosphere was thick, electric, alive with a strange, unspoken energy.

Spectre pulled Valerian aside, his voice hushed. "Keep your distance from most of them. There are people here who have given up their humanity to chase the mysteries of the Abyss."

Valerian's gaze swept over the market, his eyes catching glimpses of twisted forms, of cloaked figures moving with unnatural grace. Every instinct told him he didn't belong here. But he had a purpose—a shard to understand, a mystery to unravel.

They moved deeper into the market, and as they passed by a row of darkened tents, Valerian felt a strange tug, an invisible pull that seemed to draw him toward a lone stall at the very end of the alley. The stall was dimly lit, its shelves lined with artifacts that seemed out of place even in this bizarre setting. A man sat behind the stall, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. A single, weathered lantern hung beside him, casting his face in eerie shadows.

"Are you… the Collector?" Valerian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man's head tilted up slowly, revealing a pair of deep, penetrating eyes that seemed to look right through him. He smiled, the kind of smile that made Valerian's skin crawl, as if he was in the presence of something both ancient and dangerous.

"You've come for answers," the Collector said in a voice that was soft yet cold, carrying an edge of knowing.

Valerian nodded, gripping the shard in his pocket. "I need to understand what this is," he said, holding out the shard.

The Collector's gaze lingered on the shard for a moment, his eyes gleaming with interest. "The shard is only a fragment of a greater whole. It belongs to the core of the Abyss—a place where the boundaries of reality start to fray. Each shard contains a memory, a whisper from a past that shouldn't exist."

Valerian swallowed, feeling the weight of the words. "What kind of memories?"

The Collector leaned forward, his voice lowering. "Moments of fear, of desperation, of power lost and regained. Each shard is a piece of a soul trapped in this world, bound to the Abyss, waiting for someone to put the fragments back together."

Valerian's grip on the shard tightened as a chill ran down his spine. This game was no longer just a thrilling escape—it had become something much darker, something that blurred the line between code and reality.

"But why me?" Valerian asked, the question spilling out before he could stop himself.

The Collector's smile grew wider. "The Abyss has a way of choosing its own. You, Valerian, were drawn to it. It sees something in you—something capable of unlocking the secrets buried within."

Valerian's heart pounded, the enormity of it all weighing down on him. This world, with all its horrors and mysteries, had its eyes on him. But even as fear gripped him, he felt a strange sense of purpose, a drive to see this through, to uncover the truth that lay within the Abyss.

The Collector leaned back, his gaze still fixed on Valerian. "Remember this, boy. The deeper you delve, the more the Abyss will consume you. Few have ventured as far as you, and even fewer have returned whole."

Valerian took a deep breath, feeling the shard pulsing in his hand like a heartbeat. He knew that each step forward would only pull him deeper into the darkness, but he couldn't turn back now. This was his path, and he would walk it, no matter the cost.

Without another word, Valerian turned and made his way out of the Night Market, Spectre following silently by his side. The weight of the Collector's words echoed in his mind as they walked through the mist-covered streets, the shard in his hand pulsing in sync with his heartbeat.

As they emerged from the alley, the distant sounds of the city fading behind them, Valerian's resolve hardened. He was part of something bigger now, something that would either make him or break him.

The Victorian Abyss waited, and so did the secrets it held. And for the first time, Valerian realized that he was ready to face them, to confront the darkness that lurked within this strange, haunted world.