The Whispers of Argat’hul

Darkness did not end with the girl's arrival.

It merely changed form.

As Elian's eyes adjusted to her sudden presence, he noticed the girl was unlike any ordinary mortal. Her hair was white as bone ash, her eyes glowed with dull shades of amber, and her skin held a faint grayish hue, as if she had emerged from an ancient tomb.

She did not walk—she glided. And her presence muffled the screams of the world.

— Elian… — her voice echoed not in his ears, but in his mind. — You heard the call, didn't you?

— Who are you? — he asked, unmoving. His body was still bound to the structure of the cell, but his soul... his soul was now restless.

— I am Yurei... bearer of the Seventh Curse.

Those words cracked open fissures in Elian's mind. The Seventh Curse was merely a legend among the wardens of the Abyss. It was said that the one who bore it could hear the voices of forgotten gods, and with them, could either free or doom entire realities.

— What do you want from me?

She approached, her feet never touching the ground.

— You carry the blood of the Firstborn. It lies dormant... but I can feel it. Within you burns the lineage of Argat'hul—the god who was torn from existence for betraying the Chains.

Elian felt the world spin. Argat'hul was a forbidden entity, one of the gods from the cycle before the current reality—a being completely erased from the Cosmic Record.

— That's impossible… — he murmured, but something within his blood began to pulse—like embers reigniting. Fragments of memories not his own invaded his mind: memories of wars waged beyond time, pacts sealed with formless entities, and a tower made of bones that sang during eclipses.

Yurei touched his forehead.

In that moment, a searing pain surged through his body, tearing flesh, mind, and soul alike. Elian screamed. But it was no ordinary pain—it was liberation.

The chains that bound him shattered in absolute silence. No lock fell. No mechanism turned.

He simply... was free.

Yurei watched him, unmoving.

— You will fall, Elian. Everyone falls. The difference lies in what you do while falling.

Before he could respond, the girl vanished like smoke kissed by flame, leaving behind only a whisper trapped within the walls:

"The first chain has already been broken."

Elian dropped to his knees, hands trembling. He didn't know what was more terrifying: his freedom… or what it meant.

And then he looked up at the ceiling of the prison, now covered in living runes, and heard Argat'hul's laughter echoing within his mind.