Chapter 40: The Abyss Stares Back

A Fractured Sky, A Broken World

A deep, unnatural crack split across the heavens.

The night sky, once a vast expanse of stars and shifting clouds, tore open like shattered glass. From that rupture, a dreadful silence spread across the land—the kind that devoured sound, swallowed light, and drowned the world in something far worse than darkness.

And then came the whispers.

Not words. Not voices.

Something more ancient. More insidious.

The kind of sound that dug into the soul and unraveled it from within.

Abyssal entities had broken into the mortal plane before, but never like this. Never with such precision.

This was no accident.

This was an invitation.

And somewhere, standing alone in the ruins of a forgotten battlefield, Thalos Arctur knew who it was meant for.

A Warrior Without a Path

He did not flinch as the sky cracked apart above him.

He did not reach for his sword, nor summon the power that now pulsed beneath his skin.

Because this had been inevitable.

His return from the Rift had sent shockwaves through the realms—not just among the living, but among those who lurked in the spaces between.

And now, they wanted him back.

The figures emerged slowly from the abyssal rift above.

Not demons. Not eldritch horrors.

Something worse.

Their bodies twisted like smoke yet moved with a predator's grace, their hollow eyes fixed solely on him.

One of them—**taller than the rest, draped in shifting shadows—**spoke in a voice that barely registered as sound.

"You should not have left."

Thalos exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"And yet, here I am."

The creatures did not blink. Did not move.

But he felt it—the pressure.

An unseen weight, pushing against his very existence. Testing him.

The tall figure tilted its head. "You belong to us."

A slow smirk tugged at Thalos' lips, but there was no humor in it.

"Then come take me."

And with that, the abyss came crashing down.

The Dance of Death

They struck faster than any mortal eye could track—blades of voidlight forming mid-air, slicing through space itself.

But Thalos…

He was faster.

His blade sang, cutting through the first entity in a single movement. The creature didn't bleed. It didn't die. It simply ceased to be.

Another lunged, its clawed fingers stretching toward his throat.

Thalos stepped through the attack like a ghost, reappearing behind it—his sword carving an arc that severed its existence from reality.

More came. Dozens. Hundreds.

But for each that moved, he moved faster.

For each that struck, he struck harder.

The ground beneath them shattered. The air trembled. The very fabric of reality thinned beneath the sheer force of his existence.

And then—they stopped.

Not because they had won.

Not because they had lost.

But because something else had arrived.

And this time, even Thalos felt it.

A presence.

One he had hoped to never face again.

The One Who Watches

The battlefield grew still. The abyssal creatures—relentless, merciless—fell to their knees.

And then, the sky spoke.

"You disappoint me, Thalos."

The voice was neither loud nor quiet. Neither harsh nor gentle.

It simply was.

A deep, eternal force that had no beginning, no end.

Thalos clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around his blade. "You should've expected it."

A chuckle.

Not cruel. Not amused.

Simply knowing.

**"You think you've broken free."**The voice rumbled. "But the chains you wear now are simply of your own making."

Thalos exhaled sharply.

"Then I'll break those too."

A Love That Never Faded

Far from the battlefield, within the towering palace of Vasthral, Eryndra awoke with a gasp.

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, her skin cold with sweat.

Something had changed.

Something had broken.

She pushed the silken sheets aside, crossing the dimly lit chamber with hurried steps. She had to find him.

Before it was too late.

Before he went beyond where even she could follow.

But just as she reached for the door—

It opened on its own.

And standing before her…

Was him.

Not a vision. Not a dream.

Not the man she once knew.

But Thalos Arctur.

And when their eyes met, she saw it.

The abyss within him.

And for the first time—she wasn't sure if she could bring him back.

The War Yet to Come

Beyond the palace, beyond the city, beyond the very limits of what mortals could perceive—a storm gathered.

Not one of nature. Not one of war.

But of something far worse.

And at the center of it stood the one being who could tip the balance in either direction.

Thalos Arctur.

The question was no longer what he had become.

The question was—

Would he save this world?

Or burn it to the ground?