Prince of The Abyss

”Left through the tunnel.”

As Aether heard the words of the trusty shadow, he changed his direction and ran toward the tunnel.

He had quickly realized that his plan of not relying on his ability too extensively would take too much time. Time he couldn’t afford to waste.

So he decided to risk it all, only using the guidance of his shadows. If they lied, then he would have to continue until he found the right way.

But at the same time, if he ever went on the wrong path, he wouldn’t want to spend much time inside it. So that was what he was running.

”Right! Through the fog!”

Aether coughed, trying his hardest to breathe in the dense fog that had enveloped him.

If he hadn’t trained for this, he’d have collapsed already.

Not that it mattered, his body would give out soon enough either way.

It was already hard to breathe when the fog was dimmer, but now it was impossible.

’Damn it! How much longer do I have to last.’

A long time. A long time was the answer.

He was going to have to endure this for much more time than he thought.

[...]

Inside an abandoned library, the lone figure of woman resided.

She shrugged, her arms crossed.

Her burning, hazel eyes seemed impatient, paranoid, and almost...

worried.

How long has she been waiting?

”Damn brat! Where did you go this time?”

Clarise ran her hands through her slick hair, light gracefully reflecting itself on its strands.

”I’m too old for this.”

It had been a long time since Aether had left, and she hadn’t heard a sign from him since then.

She didn’t know if the rascal was still searching for a victim. Or had gotten lost.

...of course, there was always the possibility that he had somehow died.

A grin curled up on Clarisse’s lip, as a laugh escaped subconsciously.

”Like that devil would ever die so easily.”

After all, she was the one who trained him. The one who thought of him to survive and, most importantly,

how to charm a lady.

Sadly, he has yet to put the latter into action.

The echo of her steps where heard throughout the library as she left, and continued waiting outside for anything to appear from the shadows.

Her face stood still, not letting any emotion escape its prison.

She wouldn’t budge at any sound. She will sit here until he gets back.

What if Aether returned and she wasn’t here?

She bit her lip, putting her hand on her hips and letting out a deep breath.

She rested her head back, letting her eyes close for a second. It had been a long time since she last slept after all. The bags under her eyes were a clear sign of her exhaustion.

Staring at the starless sky of the Withered Rose District, she let the rain fall on her olive skin, enjoying the relaxing feeling. Almost let herself fall into the world of dreams.

Only brought to reality by a sudden ripple in the shadows, like ink bleeding through wet paper.

It made no sound. And somehow, that silence was louder than anything she’d ever heard.

The silence fractured. Not with a noise, but with weight, a presence dragging behind it the feel of damp earth and steel. The kind of stillness that made skin tighten and hearts falter. She didn’t move. The shadows had moved first.

Her olive skin lost its colour, not because of her lack of sleep or nutrition in the past days.

But from fear.

”A-Aether?”

A flicker of movement peeled through the dark, something too fluid to be a person, too patient to be wind. The sound that followed was barely a whisper, like wet fabric dragging across stone, or claws grazing wood. It slithered beneath her ears and settled in her spine.

”Damn it! Not Aether!”

She said, running back inside, slamming the door behind her.

Whatever that thing was, it was definitely not Aether.

But then what was it? There was no such thing as monsters in this world.

It had to be human...

[...]

The fog had no shape anymore. It pressed in like walls, suffocating, yet cold. Not the kind of cold from the Withered rain, no, this was hollow. Ancient.

The shadows had stopped talking ever since he entered the fog. Almost as if they were scared.

He blinked. Everything stopped.

His feet hovered mid-step. His breath hung in the air, frozen like crystal shards. The rain, the mist, his own sweat, all paused like actors in a scene awaiting cue.

’What the hell?’ Aether shrugged.

And in that silence, he heard it.

”Come home, Promise Child.”

The voice didn’t belong here.

He staggered, whipping his head around in fear. The tunnel had twisted, like it was a snake, narrowing behind him like a clenched throat. His eyes widened. In front of him, the mist cleared, just for a heartbeat.

And there she was.

At the end of the corridor, a throne of frost grew from the ground, veins of silver-blue cracking outward like frostbite on stone. Upon it sat a girl, crown of needles atop hair white as the blizzard sky. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.

Aether stared at her, unable to see her clearly; it was as if the world wasn’t allowing him.

After building his courage, he finally stopped staring at the distorted face of the girl.

”Who... just who are you...”

But there was no response. Except that her eyes were now open, and they were locked on him.

He felt his soul waver, as if her eyes were staring right through him, attacking his core. But what kind of being could attack another reader’s soul by just staring into them?

What he knew was that she had to be strong, much stronger than him.

Aether staggered back. Blinked again.

Gone. Only fog.

His heart thudded back into motion like a dropped drum.

It was as if that wasn’t just a vision. But an invitation. Or a curse.

Then his wrists started to sting again. He fell to the ground in misery.

He screamed, but nothing came out.

Chains burned through his skin, searing muscle and gnawing at bone, while his mind numbed in silent agony. But the chains didn’t feel hot, quite the opposite. They were almost frozen, the coldness spreading around his whole arm, stopping blood from flowing.

Aether paled at this sigh; he never thought he would lose an arm, and this early.

He tried breaking the ice that had started growing on his arm, but nothing was working. The tears that had started flowing from his eyes also froze.

But as he blinked once more, the chains were gone, alongside the fog.

As Aether looked around, he found himself in an area of the withered he remembered, and deep on the horizon, a worn-down library stood on top of a giant hill.

Somehow... he had done it. He had made it home.

Yet... he didn’t feel happy.

[...]

As Aether approached the hideout, walking through the shadows. He could feel his soul scream with each step; it was as if it were on the verge of breaking. His hands were still shaking from having the chains burn into them, and his legs were so stiff they could hardly support him.

So, looking at him through the shadows, you wouldn’t think he was a human, but a beast, a devil!

Well, of course, such a thing doesn’t exist in this world. But he has read about them in books as a child. He can’t say he liked them very much, though, he always felt one was watching him.

As his tired eyes drifted up, he could see the familiar figure of a woman. A soft smile curled up on his face as he recognized his teacher.

As he got closer, he realized the woman... was sleeping.

She must have been worried about him.

He chuckled.

She always made it feel like she was just using him and didn’t care about him. But in reality, beneath that expressionless face, she cared about him more than herself.

Aether soon reached the entrance of the library. Looking at the long asleep Clarrise. He couldn’t help but smile at how vulnerable she was at the moment.

Aether wasn’t strong enough to challenge books alone, not yet. That’s why she helped him whenever she could. Without her, his Sync would probably still be stuck at the same fragile level it was the day he first awakened.

It was common for newly awakened children to receive help at the start of their journey. The Codex allowed up to five people to enter a book at once, and children, mostly those from the Blue Rose District, had seasoned guides. Mentors who taught them how to twist a story’s ending, how to survive what was written.

That’s why most of them climbed quickly.

Why their time as Readers was so short.

But in the Withered?

You could count the number of successful ones on your hands and still have fingers left.

It worked like this:

After awakening, one was granted the Class of Reader, those who delve into the stories scattered throughout the Infinite Library in search of hidden truths.

But reading alone wasn’t enough.

To move forward, a Reader had to satisfy their Sync. To endure, learn, and reach enlightenment.

And once that moment came, the Codex would respond. It would choose a story.

A trial.

Why it picked certain books, or what it saw in each Reader, was still a mystery. Even to Aether.

But if a Reader could survive what lay inside... they changed.

They became something else.

A Seeker.

Not just someone who reads the truth. But one who dares seek it.

He looked at his teacher, still fast asleep beneath the crooked arch of the old library. For all her coldness, all her threats and smirks and scolding,

She had walked that path.

She was one of them.