The Abyss Stirs

The moment Viole stepped through the doorway, the world disappeared.

Silence.

Not just the absence of sound, but something deeper—a void. No air, no sensation, no direction. For a terrifying moment, he wasn't sure if he was still himself.

Then—a pulse.

It started deep in his chest, radiating outward. The shadow inside him stirred, reacting to whatever place this was. The darkness wasn't empty. It was alive.

Suddenly, whispers slithered through the air. Faint, unintelligible, but familiar.

You are not whole.

You do not belong.

You are ours.

Viole's heart pounded. He tried to move, but there was nothing to push against—only the endless void. Panic clawed at his throat.

Then—light.

A small, flickering ember in the distance.

Azael's voice cut through the darkness. "Do not fear it."

Viole turned, though he wasn't sure how. Azael stood a few feet away, their cloak rippling as if caught in an unseen current. The silver embroidery on their cloak glowed, like molten metal in the dark.

"What is this place?" Viole rasped.

Azael's hood tilted slightly. "A reflection. A place between places."

Viole clenched his fists. "And why am I here?"

Azael studied him for a moment. Then, with a wave of their hand, the darkness shifted.

Shapes emerged—shadowy figures, flickering like candlelight. A battlefield stretched before him, warriors locked in a deadly clash. But their faces—Viole's breath caught.

They had no faces. Only empty voids where their features should be.

"This is what you were never meant to see," Azael murmured. "A truth buried in time."

Viole's head pounded. The flickering figures—the war—he knew it.

Somewhere deep inside him, he had seen this before.

The darkness within him thrummed, surging toward the vision like a starving beast.

Then, the whispers returned—louder. More insistent.

You are waking up.

We are waiting.

We will find you.

The flickering battlefield collapsed. The void lurched, pulling Viole downward.

And then—

A scream.

Raw. Piercing. His own.

The darkness shattered.

Viole gasped, stumbling forward—back into reality.

He was inside a dimly lit chamber. Ha-eun stood nearby, tense. Azael watched him, unreadable as ever.

"You saw it, didn't you?" Azael asked softly.

Viole's hands trembled. His chest ached, as if something inside him was still trying to claw its way out.

"What was that?" he whispered.

Azael took a slow step forward. "A glimpse of the past."

Viole's breath hitched.

Or was it the future?