Embracing the Abyss

The cavern pulsed with an unseen force, the very air thickening as if infused with ancient intent. Ryn gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching instinctively toward his tools. Whatever lay ahead was no ordinary threat—it was something old, something sealed. And now, it was stirring.

‎The hooded figure remained still, their silver eyes reflecting the flickering engravings. The stranger, however, took a measured step forward, tilting his head as though listening to an unheard voice.

‎"The bindings are weakening," the stranger murmured. "The old ones did not merely imprison something here. They wove its existence into these engravings. The moment they fail..."

‎Ryn swallowed hard. "Then what do we do?"

‎The hooded figure finally moved, running their fingers along a set of symbols. The light dimmed at their touch, and the whispers that had once been distant surged into focus.

‎—"Do not look upon it. Do not name it. Do not let it see you."—

‎The cavern trembled again, and with it, something shifted within the darkness. A shape, indistinct but undeniable, unfurled in the depths beyond the glowing engravings. It did not move as a creature would, nor did it seem bound by the natural laws of the world.

‎The stranger's eyes narrowed. "We don't have much time. The moment the last of these inscriptions fail, whatever was left behind will be free. And if the warnings are true… we do not want it to be free."

‎Ryn's mind raced. The engravings were more than just warnings—they were a prison. If the bindings were failing, then perhaps...

‎"Can we reinforce them?" he asked.

‎The hooded figure glanced at him, their expression unreadable. "That knowledge was lost with the ones who built this place. But we may not have a choice."

‎The ground cracked. The shape within the shadows shuddered.

‎Ryn clenched his jaw. "Then we need to act now."

‎The whispers surged into a chorus of fractured voices as the cavern began to collapse around them.

The cavern groaned as cracks spread like veins through its walls. The flickering engravings pulsed erratically, their once-steady glow dimming as the unseen force pressed against its failing bindings.

‎Ryn wiped the sweat from his brow. His mind raced. "We need to stabilize the engravings! If we don't—"

‎A tremor cut him off, nearly knocking him to the ground. The shape in the darkness twitched, and a deep, echoing resonance pulsed through the air, filling the chamber with an unnatural vibration.

‎The hooded figure moved quickly, pulling a thin, jagged blade from their robes. "There may be a way to delay it," they said. "But it requires a sacrifice."

‎Ryn clenched his jaw. "What kind of sacrifice?"

‎The stranger, still poised at the edge of the darkness, spoke without turning. "Not flesh. Not blood. An engraving. A mark of meaning."

‎Ryn's fingers instinctively brushed the inscribed tools at his belt. Engraving was more than carving patterns—it was embedding intent into the world. If an inscription could bind… then it could also reinforce.

‎He took a deep breath. "Then I'll do it. I'll engrave a seal to strengthen the bindings."

‎The hooded figure hesitated. "If you fail, it may consume you instead."

‎The cavern trembled again. The unseen force pressed forward.

‎Ryn stepped toward the closest failing inscription, hands steady. He had no other choice.

‎The whispers turned to screams as his engraving tool met the stone, carving new patterns into the ancient prison.

Ryn's engraving tool trembled in his grip as he carved each intricate line. The stone resisted at first, as though rejecting his intent, but with every stroke, the markings fused with the failing bindings. The cavern pulsed violently, the unseen force writhing against the seal.

‎The hooded figure stood close, their silver eyes locked on the shifting darkness. "It senses you," they murmured. "Your engraving is not merely reinforcing the prison—it's drawing its attention."

‎Ryn gritted his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow. "Then I need to finish before it decides to break free."

‎The stranger stepped forward, their voice eerily calm. "There is another way. If you inscribe a conduit rather than a barrier, you could siphon its power instead of merely delaying its release."

‎The cavern trembled violently as if reacting to the suggestion. The abyss did not like the idea of being used.

‎Ryn hesitated. The choice was stark—seal it away and risk it returning stronger later, or harness its strength and take on an unknown burden.

‎The whispers of the abyss twisted into something almost coherent. Words just beyond understanding slithered through his mind. A cold certainty settled in his chest. If he did this, there would be no turning back.

‎The hooded figure tensed. "Decide now. The abyss is watching. And it is waiting."

Ryn's breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at the engraving before him. His mind raced through the possibilities, weighing the risks against the potential power. The abyss pulsed in response, its unseen presence coiling through the cavern like a serpent waiting to strike.

‎The hooded figure and the stranger watched in silence, their gazes heavy with unspoken warning. The air between them crackled with eerie energy, and the inscriptions around them dimmed as if the very prison meant to contain the abyss was struggling to hold on.

‎Ryn exhaled sharply. To seal it away would mean safety—for now. To siphon its power meant change—irreversible, undeniable change.

‎" Just follow my directions. Did you forget?" the stranger said. " You need to learn why you've been spared."

‎His hand trembled only for a moment before he began. He would inscribe the conduit.

‎The tip of his engraving tool pressed against the stone, and the moment the first stroke was made, the entire cavern shuddered.The markings pulsed violently, shifting between clarity and distortion. The whispers that had once been distant now roared in his ears, countless voices speaking at once, urging, pleading, demanding.

‎A sharp pain stabbed through his palm, and he hissed as a thin, jagged line of darkness spread from his fingertips, threading its way through his veins like a liquid shadow. The abyss was not merely being harnessed—it was responding.

‎The hooded figure stepped forward, urgency flashing in their silver eyes. "Kid, this is beyond mere inscription. The abyss is recognizing you. If you continue, it will not just lend you power—it will claim you."

‎Ryn grits his teeth against the searing pain. "Then, I'll make it mine first."

‎The stranger chuckled darkly. "Spoken like someone who has already lost."

‎But Ryn did not waver. The inscriptions around him buckled, their light flickering as they reformed into a new shape, a new binding—not of imprisonment, but of dominance. The abyss writhed in response, testing the new structure, testing him.

‎For a brief moment, silence fell over the cavern. The tension reached its breaking point.

‎Then, the abyss submitted.

‎The moment it happened, a surge of overwhelming energy crashed into Ryn like a tidal wave. His vision darkened, his mind-expanding beyond the confines of his body. He saw things—shadows with many eyes, cities that did not belong to this time, voices that spoke in tongues no human should understand.

‎And through it all, one truth became evident: The abyss had marked him, just as he had marked it.

‎The cavern walls stopped trembling, and the inscriptions settled into a steady, pulsating glow. The hooded figure watched him warily. The stranger's smirk deepened.

‎Ryn slowly opened his eyes, his breath even, his body thrumming with an unfamiliar force. He clenched his fist, feeling the weight of something new within him.

‎The abyss had been bound.

‎But at what cost?

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