It rained for the first time in centuries.
Not with water, but with the quiet patter of ashes that once made up galaxies.
They drifted down like soft snow across Seraphiel’s homeworld, a sacred world untouched by war for eons. Now, it stood in mourning. Trees bowed beneath the weight of cosmic soot. Rivers ran with grey. And the stars above?16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbmm33gBwn2
Dimmed.
The skies themselves had knelt.
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Seraphiel lay in the hollow of a broken cathedral, a thousand stained-glass wings shattered across the marble floor. He had not moved for three days.
Tavin knelt nearby, his voice hoarse from speaking to him.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZymyCupSW9
“You’re alive, Sera. Please… speak to me.”
Seraphiel didn’t respond.
His breathing was ragged. His feathers, those that remained, shivered every time the wind carried a distant echo.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDZ6HNXJU26
It wasn’t pain he feared.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpUUiVT3PLZ
It was memory.
Each second replayed a thousand lives lost, again and again, compacted and re-screamed in his head like a loop that had no mercy.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqUGLgN41is
“We shouldn’t have fought him,” Lyra said behind them, her voice trembling. “We were arrogant. We thought he was… defeatable.”
She didn’t cry. She couldn’t.
Her tears had burned out in the moment she watched Abyssus erase the Heralds with a gesture.
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The Empty Seats
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The Round Table of the Heralds was rebuilt. Out of duty. Out of desperation.
Eight chairs once stood in defiance of the Void.
Now… three remained. One cracked. One empty. One occupied by Seraphiel, who stared through it rather than sat with pride.
Tavin and Lyra stood beside him.
The rest? Names whispered only in eulogies.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOJmyTz7gCS
“He told us to kneel,” Tavin said bitterly. “And we did. But what now?”
No one answered.
Seraphiel finally spoke—his voice no louder than the dust falling from the air.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJAofrJfIQA
“We lost something far greater than that battle.”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2XkfI1cZxQ
“What?” Lyra asked.
Seraphiel raised his head.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡacomXwmEfe
“We lost the right to believe.”
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Elsewhere, the Seed, still glowing, still somehow untouched by Abyssus’ final wrath, wandered through what remained of the multiverse. He walked through blackened corridors of collapsed timelines, his footsteps echoing in places that should no longer exist.
He stopped at the corpse of the Divine Being—a husk floating in folded spacetime.
Kneeling, the Seed touched it gently.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjjlM1eprcW
“We tried.”
He didn’t cry. He couldn’t.
But something in him pulsed strangely, an echo of what humans would call grief.
Or maybe guilt.
Behind him, the faint shimmer of Abyssus lingered, like a shadow cast on nothing.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOougSXX2Iy
“Do you now understand?” Abyssus asked—not with malice, nor kindness. Just fact.
The Seed stood.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3159vEMPjQ
“You let me live.”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe8eYAI3Nmk
“Yes.”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmPFViuvWyx
“Why?”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡehGZP76Dnc
“You are a tool I still find... useful.”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZOFyOg7Eer
“And if I resist?”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBomOle5xOL
“You cannot.”
The Seed clenched his small fists.
But Abyssus was already gone.
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The Silent Threat....
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On a distant world, a monument was built.
Not to Abyssus.
To the ones he erased.
The three Heralds who died so quickly, so brutally, their names became prayers whispered by civilizations desperate not to meet the same fate.
But even prayers faltered.
Because Abyssus had said nothing since.
Not a demand.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYpSAPbeWbT
Not a timeline.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGLUH6z2DTS
Not a condition.
Just silence.
And that silence spread faster than any war ever had.
Worlds evacuated themselves out of sheer fear. Planets sacrificed their own leaders, families, kings, in case Abyssus demanded a soul.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyvirmYOVRV
But he didn’t.
He just… watched.
And waited.
For something.
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we return to Seraphiel...
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He stands before a cracked mirror. Behind him, his wings flicker. His sword—once radiant—is now dull and splintered with fault lines.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhoLAtEj8aK
“We’re not done yet,” he says.
Tavin looks up.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFmJGXdw5Ie
Lyra raises her eyes.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxgB7fvHWSD
“What can we possibly do?” she asks.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxsNM7KtJOl
“We don’t fight him,” Seraphiel says.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmAP4yh19Ni
“Then what?”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXrf4aAuhCF
“We change the only thing that scares him.”
Silence.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGbi8JWE2sg
“What’s that?” Tavin asks.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxxlkSQds23
“Ourselves.”
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There was a silence between universes now.
Not the comforting hush of sleep, nor the sacred pause between heartbeats. This was the silence of a hunted thing—quiet not from peace, but fear.
After the Fall of the Divine Being, after the obliteration of the Five Heralds, the story of Abyssus had stopped being legend and become truth.
Entire galaxies paused.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCaEtqSSE3X
Civilizations that had climbed to cosmic heights ceased expansion.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzStaOqTFZO
Warlords, conquerors, gods… all fell silent.
The multiverse now lived like prey beneath an unblinking, invisible eye.
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Within a hollowed-out supernova, its fire frozen mid-collapse, stood the Sanctuary of the Heralds. What was once a temple of radiant energy now flickered dimly.
Three seats remained in its inner sanctum. Only one was occupied.
Seraphiel stood in the center, not sitting—his cracked sword stabbed into the crystal floor. Behind him, two other figures entered slowly.
Tyvin, ever calm, eyes glowing faintly with stardust.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3cqkM9hrXO
Lyra, radiant and distant, her long silver-white hair now dulled by trauma.
They had not spoken for hours.
It was Seraphiel who broke the silence.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqYnFgqmegv
“I’m going.”
Tyvin blinked slowly. “Where?”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyvGCPrHcMJ
“Beyond what’s known. I’ll scour every edge of the outer layers of concept, myth, essence. There has to be something.”
Lyra’s expression darkened. “You want to find something that can kill him.”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRw3cMbhDD4
“No,” Seraphiel said. “I want to find something that can understand him.”
Tyvin folded his arms. “And if you do? Then what?”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4ncZ3MR18l
“Then maybe… just maybe… I won’t be alone when I kneel.”
Lyra took a step closer, her voice rising. “Seraphiel, five of us are dead. Gone. Not erased—unmade. And you want to do what? Chase ghosts through forgotten timelines?”
He looked up, his eyes hollow but burning.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7ja329t0X6
“If I don’t go, then all that’s left is waiting. And if I wait, I become like the rest of them—afraid, trembling, praying for mercy he’ll never give.”
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Elsewhere, the knowledge of Abyssus had spread like a virus.
Entire cultures changed.
In the Chronospire Realms, the ruling philosophers dismantled time-based religions. Worship of divine order was abandoned in favor of cold, nihilistic mathematics. Time no longer meant progression—it meant exposure. The more time passed, the more likely Abyssus might notice.
In the Eld Shroud, a gas-giant society, the living cloud-beings began ritual suicides at birth. Not out of fear, but as sacrifice. Their logic: if fewer minds existed, perhaps the Eye would look elsewhere.
The Children of Light, once preachers of hope, rebranded themselves the Nameless Choir. They chanted in tones that mimicked Abyssus’s final command: KNEEL. Not to mock him. But to remind themselves that hope must evolve—or die.
Abyssus had become a shadow deity not worshiped, not hated… but accepted.
Like gravity. Like entropy.
He simply was.
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In the sanctuary, the air grew heavy as Seraphiel summoned the astral map of the known and unknown multiverse. Thousands of lightlines flared to life—coordinates of gods, tyrants, whispering black holes, memory-consuming oceans, weaponized suns, ancient forgotten entities.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6090RJGSYv
There has to be something,” he whispered.
Tyvin walked forward and spoke gently. “There’s always something. But not always what you want.”
Seraphiel turned. “You think I’m a fool?”
Lyra answered, stepping beside Tyvin. “No. We think you’re a hero. And that’s the problem.”
He stared at them both.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ00wE0E3xPm
“Abyssus doesn’t fear us. Doesn’t even register us. You think staying here helps?”
Lyra touched the broken edge of his armor. “Maybe not. But we guide. That is what we Heralds do when strength fails.”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuYLVgVe7t2
“Then guide me to something that can fight.”
She looked away.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8aqQ1EFNFa
“You won’t find it,” Tyvin said. “Because Abyssus isn’t a thing to defeat. He’s a truth. The only way to face him is to change what truth is.”
Seraphiel nodded. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”
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When Seraphiel left the Sanctuary, the skies bent around him.
He no longer walked through space as mortals do. He tore through possibility, leaping from logic to myth, from dream to lawless dimensions where time was fermented in vats.
He entered the Sea of Infinite Thrones, where dead gods still sat on collapsing chairs made of worship.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwhYiozHZEp
He visited the Echo Cathedral, where prayers went to die.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyr9DsdTa0h
He spoke to the Library of Sins, whose books bled ink when opened.
In every realm, he asked a question:16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxXmfviagNg
“Is there something that can make Abyssus pause?”
And every answer was the same:16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVdVptFefcc
“No. But there might be something that can make you stronger.”
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Far from Seraphiel’s journey, in a torn part of the Void where even meaning had unraveled, the Seed stood silently.
He was changing.
The exposure to emotion, to fear, to hope to everything Abyssus never understood had begun to twist the Seed in ways he could not explain.
He felt.
He wondered.
He remembered.
In the silence of the dark, he whispered:16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMnX9fQ5dml
“Am I him?”
And from behind him, something vast and cold replied:16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9bHfF6gYdI
“Not yet.”
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That night, Lyra and Tyvin both shared a dream.
In it, they stood at the edge of a mirror that reflected not themselves, but Seraphiel—bloody, broken, screaming through universes that tore him apart and put him back together again.
At the mirror’s center was Abyssus, unmoving, unspeaking. Only watching.
Behind him was something else.
A shape. Not yet born. Not yet real.
But becoming.
When they awoke, Lyra clutched her chest.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtIZZpevh6D
“He’s going to become something more.”
Tyvin nodded.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡioh14BrQzD
“So will Seraphiel.”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1eSy86pp6R
“Will that save us?”
He looked up at the fading stars.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMlHwbXP63j
“Or doom us all.”
ns216.73.216.190da2
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