Prince of The Abyss

It was so strange seeing the Withered so peaceful after what he had done to it. It was, as it were, a whole different kingdom, yet it wasn’t; it was the same people. Meaning that their hearts and dedication to go against the Blue Ross were heavy enough for them to decide to join him.

He didn’t tell new people who he was, that he was a vessel, and that the Abyss was back. Only Lyra, to whom he told everything, and Riven, who already knew everything. They were the only ones aware of my change.

It made him wonder, what if the Blue Rose really came there? Would they kick them out, finally going against them like they have been trying to make them do? Or will they team up with the Blue Rose, telling them everything?

He sighed, trying not to think of it. After all, he was here to see what had happened to the Marketplace, not talk about betrayal.

But seriously, this place was so different, it was like he was in another world.

There was more silence; there were no flames, and people actually talked things out, completely different from before, where you couldn’t leave with your eardrums, when the place was filled with flames, and where fighting was the only way to go, to survive.

...

He was going to test something.

Retreating to some darker parts of the district, he manipulated the memories of some so that instead of seeing their friends, they saw the Blue Rose. And to his surprise, the guys started screaming in a weird way, announcing that he was there. And then many of them started to come as reinforcements.

They drove the poor guy away from the district, which almost made him feel bad.

He stayed in the shadows longer than he meant to, watching the district breathe. The alleys that once stank of blood now smelled of bread, rain, and smoke from the forges. The sound of it all was wrong, too alive, too normal. He’d been the ghost that gutted this place, yet it rebuilt itself anyway. Maybe it didn’t need him as much as he’d told himself...

His eyes drifted over the murals someone had painted on the walls. The faces were unfamiliar, though the shapes weren’t. There were still the murals of his mark, but now, with more people seeing them, some have realized what it is, trying to cover it. He recognized the expressions, hope painted over fear. People were getting good at pretending, or maybe, this was really them, and this rebellion was the answer to their hope...

Aether leaned on the broken railing of a balcony, staring down at the slow current of the crowd. They didn’t know he was watching. They didn’t know who he was. For once, that anonymity felt almost merciful.

He thought about the word ”peace.” What did it even mean here? Was it quiet because the people had healed, or because they’d forgotten? He didn’t know which was worse. They hadn’t forgotten because they just kicked someone out for being part of the Blue Rose, so maybe they have healed from their time as slaves for the Blue Rose.

There was a time he might have found comfort in this, seeing people rebuild, seeing light slip between cracked stone. Maybe if his master were here... she would have really enjoyed this version of the marketplace; she always wished to see a more peaceful version, and this is exactly that. Now, it only left him restless. Something in him had learned to need chaos. Stillness scraped against his nerves. It was as if he wasn’t used to living in a world where you are safe and not in danger. From his time in Frozen Crown, to not running for his life, his life was on the line.

The city itself seemed to breathe differently, like a beast pretending to sleep, waiting for a reason to wake up. He wondered if he was the reason. If so, then his rebellion was about to take over the Withered one hundred percent, with their numbers. After the Withered, then comes reinforcing their rules upon the district, and finally, finding a way into the Blue Rose.

He brushed dust from his hands, eyes tracing the faint patterns the Abyss left under his skin, like dark veins, pulsing slowly, alive. The marks left by the chains were, in fact, alive, or rather were something in between; they couldn’t be dead, as they couldn’t have had this ability to let his sword come out. Yet at the same time, his sword was also alive... The world didn’t see it, but he could feel it humming, always asking to be used.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and the silence of the Withered felt like an accusation.

Maybe that’s why he’d done it, the test. To see if peace here was real, or just painted over fear. The result had been predictable, really. Humans didn’t change; they only slept until someone whispered the right name.

And yet, some small part of him wished they had proved him wrong.

”How evil you are.”

Aether stopped, his smile faltering slightly, as Voidpiercer appeared behind him. He sighed, knowing the blade wasn’t happy; most likely, it had been complying with him since the start of the rebellion.

Aether turned around, not quite fond of his blade’s sudden intervention, but he allowed it to talk.

”What do you want?”

Voidpiercer was surprised by his annoyed tone, as when they usually talk, he doesn’t raise his voice like this.

”I wish to ask you... Do you really think this is going to work?”

Aether was dumbfounded. What could he mean by if this was going to work. The rebellion? Yes, how could he think otherwise? And he wasn’t even pretending; he was sure it was going to work, after seeing how united his people were.

There was no doubt.

”I see, you really do...”

...

”The rebellion will fall, Aether, trust me on this?”

Aether gritted his teeth.

”How do you dare say that? After all the hard work I have done to get to this point, do you really think you can come and act as if you know everything? I will continue, and I shall not fail, no matter what happens.”

”You are making a great mistake-”

Aether silenced his blade, not wanting to listen to its voice any longer.

He was mad. Very mad. To the point he wanted to prove everyone wrong, and to show that all his work had been for something, and that it wasn’t useless and a waste of time.

He breathed in slowly, forcing the anger down his throat until it settled like a lump of molten iron in his chest. The shadows around him twitched, sensing the pulse of his temper, and for a moment, the air itself looked darker. The Abyss always reacted to emotion, like a mirror eager to remind him that rage was its language. He needed to be careful; if he wasn’t, he was going to go under twenty.

He didn’t need its help; his blade was powerful, but now out of Frozen Crown, it wasn’t special.

He started walking again, leaving the darker corners behind. The Marketplace had quieted, though it never truly slept. Lanterns hung from crooked poles, casting uneven pools of orange over the cobblestone. Somewhere in the distance, a hammer struck iron. The rhythm steadied him, if only barely.

He thought about what the sword had said, about failure, and for a second, he wondered what failure would even mean for him now. Death? Surrender? Losing himself to the Abyss? None of those felt like an end anymore. Maybe the real failure was to stop moving forward. To stop proving that he could.

He glanced at his arm; the faint mark pulsed under the skin, glowing for just a moment before fading again. Proof enough that he still had control.

”Fall, huh?” he whispered to no one, his voice almost a growl. ”Then I’ll drag the world down with me.”

He made his way through the narrow streets, wetting his boots in the water. Reminding himself of where he was. This wasn’t some grand place, but the Withered, a poor graveyard rather than a city.

He entered the Library, the place where he used to live with his master, but it was now the headquarters of their rebellion.

”You’ve done well while I was gone,” he said finally, voice calm again, almost detached. ”The district listens to us now. The Blue Rose won’t be able to ignore this for long. And when they realize, it’s going to be too late, we’ll find a way to get them out.”

...

”But to lead our people, we also have to be strong, you know? And at this point, I don’t think we fit that description.”

...

”We shall enter a story to get stronger. Who is with me?”

There was a long wait before Riven raised for he first time, followed by Lyra, and then all the others.

...

”Alright,” he said, the words almost a promise. ”Let’s tear a story apart.”