CHAPTER 95.

Chapter 95 – The Abyss That Watches

There was no descent, no fall, no sensation at all. Jean simply… was.

And before her: the Abyss.

A presence without form. A darkness that did not lack light, but devoured meaning. She could not see it—but she could feel it. Watching. Weighing.

It did not speak with voice or language. It spoke with doubt.

> "What if your path is a lie?"

Jean stood motionless. Her swords—Solstice and Eclipsion—were gone. So was the Codex. So was everything. Here, she was only herself.

The voice was her own.

> "What if Celeste chose wrong? What if you were meant to fall?"

Images flickered in the dark—her failures, her guilt, the world she couldn't save. Faces she couldn't protect.

The Abyss showed her all of it.

> "Your strength is built on graves. Your legacy is a myth."

Jean clenched her fists.

> "No. It's a truth I bled for."

The darkness pressed harder. Shadows curled into specters, their whispers countless and precise:

> "You are nothing but the last spark before the dark."

> "You are not Martin."

> "You are not Light."

> "You are not Enough."

> "You are Alone."

Jean fell to her knees—until a warmth bloomed in her chest.

A heartbeat.

Not hers.

Whitney.

Her divine guardian's soul echoing in hers, from across even this void.

And more—flickers of every soul she carried. Silvia. Ryan. Karen. Charles. Even Raven. The bonds she forged. The lives she touched.

> "I am not alone," Jean whispered.

Light sparked in her eyes.

> "I've walked in the light. I've walked through fire. I've known grief. I've bled for the living. I've seen the end—"

Her voice rose.

> "And I chose to stand anyway."

> "You are the Abyss. You do not defeat hope. You test it."

Silence followed.

Then, the Abyss… laughed.

A low, resonant sound, like collapsing stars.

> "Wordbearer. You face the dark and do not flinch. You do not escape it—you carry it. That is the only way light survives."

A gate of obsidian cracked open behind her.

> "Go, then. You have passed."

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The Codex flared to life once more. A whisper in the void:

> "Five."

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