The Echo

The cavern was silent, but the weight in the air was suffocating. The inscriptions still pulsed faintly, their glow stabilizing under Ryn's newly forged connection to the abyss. The tremors had ceased, yet something deeper, more unsettling, had begun to take root.

‎Ryn flexed his fingers, watching the dark lines that ran beneath his skin like living ink. The abyss had submitted to him, but the cost of this victory was still unknown. His breath was steady, but he could feel the whispers coiling around his mind, each one an echo from the shadows beyond comprehension.

‎The hooded figure watched him cautiously, their silver eyes narrowing. "You've done something irreversible," they murmured. "This is no mere engraving. You have allowed the abyss to seep into you."

‎The stranger chuckled, arms crossed. "And yet, he's still standing. That alone proves he was worthy. Or at least, reckless enough to survive."

‎Ryn's gaze flickered between them. "I did what needed to be done. The prison was failing. This was the only way to prevent whatever was inside from breaking free."

‎" But now," the hooded figure said, "it lives in you instead."

‎The words sent a shiver through him. He knew they spoke the truth. The abyss had not simply been sealed away—it had been transferred. Absorbed. Bound.

‎Ryn exhaled, steadying his mind against the countless murmurs clawing for his attention. "Then I'll control it."

‎The stranger tilted his head, intrigued. "Ambitious. Dangerous. I like it."

‎The hooded figure shook their head. "Control is an illusion. You might be able to direct its influence, but you are now tied to something vast and ancient. It will test you, Kid. And if you falter even once..."

‎The pause was deliberate, heavy. Ryn already understood. If he lost control, he would not simply die—he would become something else entirely.

‎A sudden shift in the air drew their attention. The cavern, once alive with shifting engravings, had gone completely still. The bindings were secure, but the atmosphere had changed.

‎The abyss was silent, waiting.

‎Ryn clenched his fist, feeling the energy coil within him like a beast lurking beneath his skin. "Then I'll make sure I don't falter."

‎The hooded figure sighed, stepping back. "We should leave. There's nothing more to gain here and much that could still go wrong."

‎The stranger smirked but said nothing, motioning for Ryn to lead the way.

‎As they ascended from the depths of the cavern, Ryn could feel the abyss watching. It had accepted him, but whether as master or pawn remained to be seen.

The ascent from the cavern was slow, the weight of Ryn's newfound burden pressing against his very soul. Every step forward felt like dragging a shadow that did not belong to him, an unseen force lurking beneath his skin, watching, waiting. The abyss had settled within him, but it had not gone dormant. It merely observed, gauging its new vessel.

‎The hooded figure walked beside him, silent but vigilant. The stranger trailed behind, his smirk never quite fading, as if amused by the entire ordeal. Outside, the night had deepened, the sky an endless stretch of darkness punctuated only by the cold light of distant stars.

‎Ryn inhaled sharply as his vision flickered. For a moment, the world around him shifted. The trees twisted, their branches elongating into jagged claws. The air rippled as if reality itself had become unstable. Shadows moved where there were none, whispering in a language that had no name.

‎Then it was gone. The world snapped back into place, solid and real once more.

‎"You saw it, didn't you?" the stranger said, his voice laced with amusement.

‎Ryn didn't answer immediately. He steadied himself, ignoring the lingering traces of that unreal moment. "It was nothing."

‎The hooded figure, however, did not seem convinced. "The abyss is testing you," they murmured. "Its whispers will grow stronger. You may think you can control it, but control is a fleeting illusion."

‎Ryn clenched his fists. "I don't need control. I need strength."

‎The stranger let out a low chuckle. "Ah, but strength without control is just another form of submission. The question is—are you willing to risk that?"

‎A gust of wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves with an unnatural cadence. Ryn remained silent, but deep within, he could feel it—the abyss, shifting in response, whispering in a voice that was not entirely his own.

‎And for the first time, he wondered: Who was truly watching whom?

The forest stretched endlessly before them, shrouded in thick mist that clung to the air like a living thing. Each step forward felt heavier, as though the very ground resisted their passage. The moon hung above them, pale and cold, its light barely cutting through the suffocating darkness.

‎Ryn adjusted the grip on his engraving tool, feeling the abyss stir within him. It was no longer a distant presence—it was inside, slithering through his veins, whispering to his thoughts. His vision blurred at times, shadows twisting into forms that did not belong to this world.

‎The hooded figure moved with caution, their silver eyes flicking between the trees. "The abyss is restless," they murmured. "It does not like being bound."

‎Ryn exhaled sharply, steadying himself. "It will learn its place."

‎The stranger chuckled, stepping lightly over a fallen branch. "Ah, but does it even have a place? Or is it simply waiting for you to break first?"

‎Ryn didn't answer. He could already feel the abyss testing the edges of his will, probing, searching for weakness. He could not afford to waver.

‎A sudden shift in the air made them all pause. The trees groaned, their silhouettes distorting unnaturally. The mist thickened, swirling around them in unnatural patterns. Something was coming.

‎A low, guttural sound echoed from the depths of the forest, followed by a series of clicking noises—unnatural, rhythmic. Then, from the shadows, emerged a thing unlike anything Ryn had seen before.

‎It had no face, only an elongated skull etched with pulsating engravings, its limbs impossibly long, tapering into clawed fingers. The air around it rippled, as though reality itself recoiled from its presence.

‎"An Echo," the hooded figure whispered, their voice tight. "Born from the abyss, existing between what is and what is not."

‎Ryn's grip on his tool tightened. The Echo's hollow sockets locked onto him, and in that instant, he understood—it recognized him.

‎The abyss within him stirred violently. The whispers turned into a roar, urgent, insistent.

‎The Echo tilted its head, its body twitching in unnatural jerks. Then it spoke—not in words, but in raw emotion, a wave of intent crashing into Ryn's mind.

‎"You are like us."

‎A pulse of cold fire surged through his veins. The abyss reacted.

‎The stranger grinned. "Well now, this just got interesting."

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