Into the Abyss

Chapter 47: Into the Abyss

The air felt different now. Thicker, colder, as though something unseen was shifting, pressing in on them. The battlefield, though miles away, still loomed in the minds of all who had fought on it. But now, they stood on the precipice of something far more dangerous—something that couldn't be fought with weapons or brute strength. It was a battle of wills, of unseen forces, and it would take more than sheer power to survive.

Elvis stood at the edge of the cliff, her gaze fixed on the valley below, where the campfires of their enemies flickered in the distance. They had been preparing for this moment for weeks, but now that it had arrived, the weight of the decision pressed down on her.

"We've come this far," she murmured, her voice carrying in the wind, though no one was around to hear. "But is it enough?"

Behind her, a soft rustle of movement signaled the approach of Alexander. He had been quiet since the meeting earlier in the day. It was unusual for him to be so distant, and Elvis couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind. He had always been her rock—steadfast and unshakable. But now, even he seemed to carry a burden that he didn't know how to share.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low, almost uncertain.

Elvis turned to face him, meeting his eyes. There was something in his expression, something raw and vulnerable, that made her heart tighten in her chest. This man—her companion, her ally, her anchor—had always carried an air of invincibility. But now, she could see it clearly: the doubt. The fear.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I don't know if anyone ever truly is."

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. For a moment, there was silence between them. Then, he took a step forward, closing the distance that had formed in that moment of hesitation.

"I can't promise you victory," Alexander said, his voice heavy with the weight of his own turmoil. "But I can promise you that you won't be alone. Not ever."

Her breath hitched, the sincerity in his words grounding her in a way nothing else could. They were about to walk into the unknown, into a battle that would test them all in ways they couldn't yet comprehend. But one thing was certain: they would face it together.

---

The next morning, the camp was alive with a quiet, purposeful energy. Warriors sharpened their weapons, checked their armor, and made their final preparations. The sun had barely risen, but the tension in the air felt like the calm before a storm. The battlefield ahead wasn't just a test of strength—it was a test of survival. And Elvis wasn't sure if they would all make it out alive.

In the midst of the preparation, Graxis appeared, his ancient face still as impassive as ever, though there was a glint in his eyes—a hint of something dangerous. He had not spoken much since their victory over the first wave of enemies, but now, he was a constant presence, hovering in the shadows, watching over them all like a hawk.

"Elvis," Graxis said, his voice cutting through the noise of the camp. "There's something you need to know."

She looked up at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it?"

"The enemy is more than just an army," he said gravely. "They are led by someone with power—ancient power. Something that we are not prepared to face."

Elvis took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

"Their leader, Lyric," Graxis continued, his voice lowering, "is no ordinary general. He is a sorcerer, one who has tapped into the darkest of magics. His power is unlike anything we've seen before. And if he has his way, he will bring about the end of all that we know."

Elvis felt a chill run down her spine. "What kind of magic?"

"The kind that binds souls," Graxis said, his eyes darkening. "The kind that can control the living and the dead."

A shiver of fear crept into her bones. Magic that could control souls? She had never faced anything like that before. But the thought of it was even worse. If Lyric could control souls, it meant that he had the power to turn their own warriors against them. It was a power that could crush them all.

"Then we need to find a way to stop him," Elvis said, her voice firm. "We can't allow him to have control over anyone, especially not us."

Graxis nodded. "I agree. But we cannot do this alone. You will need to seek help from others—those who understand this dark magic. The witches who reside in the East may be our best chance."

Elvis nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. She couldn't do this on her own, and she couldn't afford to take unnecessary risks. "I'll send a scout immediately."

But Graxis held up a hand, stopping her. "No. The witches cannot be trusted. You will have to go yourself."

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of venturing into the East, a land shrouded in mystery and danger. But if it was the only way to defeat Lyric, she had no choice.

"I'll go," she said, her voice resolute. "But I'll need a small group to accompany me. It's too dangerous to go alone."

Alexander appeared at her side, his expression unreadable but his presence unwavering. "I'll go with you. You won't face this alone."

Elvis met his gaze, her chest tightening at the thought of leaving him behind. But she knew that if they were going to survive, they had to be united. "Alright. We'll leave at first light tomorrow."

The journey to the East was long and treacherous. The landscape seemed to change with every passing hour, the forests growing denser and the air growing heavier with each step. The path was uncertain, and the further they ventured, the more Elvis could feel the pull of something ancient—something that had been waiting for them.

It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the cursed forest, the place where the witches were said to reside. The trees here were twisted, their trunks gnarled and blackened as if they had been tainted by the very magic that had created them. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, and the closer they got, the more Elvis felt the weight of something watching them.

"We should be careful," Alexander whispered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "The witches are unpredictable. They may not be willing to help us."

"I know," Elvis replied, her voice barely a whisper. "But we don't have a choice."

They pressed on, the trees growing denser as they ventured deeper into the forest. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. They had been walking for what felt like hours when, suddenly, the ground beneath their feet gave way, and they found themselves tumbling into a hidden pit.

Elvis gasped, her heart racing as she landed hard on the ground. For a moment, everything was a blur of motion, but she quickly gathered her bearings and stood, her body aching from the fall. She looked around, only to find herself in a small, dimly lit chamber, the walls lined with strange symbols and the air thick with the scent of herbs and incense.

"Welcome, Elvis James," a voice echoed from the shadows.

She spun around, her hand reaching for the dagger at her side. But the figure that emerged from the darkness was not an enemy. It was a woman, tall and ethereal, with silver hair and eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light.

"I've been expecting you."