The forest grew darker as night deepened, but the glow of the moon filtered through the trees in silver ribbons, falling upon three figures walking the path less taken—Auren, Lyra, and the ghost that had once been Kael.
No one spoke for a long while. The air between them was heavy, almost tangible.
Finally, Auren broke the silence.
"You should've been dead, Kael. I saw your body fall into the Abyss itself."
Kael's faint smile didn't reach his eyes.
"I did fall, Auren. And for a long time, I kept falling. The Abyss doesn't kill—it devours, then reshapes what it finds useful."
Lyra's fingers brushed the hilt of her staff. "So, what are you now?"
Kael's reply was cold and honest.
"Half of what I was. Half of what it made me."
He raised a gloved hand. Faint veins of shadow flickered beneath the skin—runes not of elven make, but of abyssal origin.
"It's not a curse," he said. "It's a chain."
Auren's expression hardened.
"Then we'll break it."
"You can't," Kael replied softly. "This isn't magic that can be undone. It's written into my being. The moment I fell, the Veil marked me as its child."
He turned away, looking into the distance where the silver woods gave way to the black horizon.
"But I didn't return for pity, Auren. I returned because the Abyss is moving—slowly, intelligently. It's not sending monsters anymore. It's sending plans."
The trio reached a clearing where the ground bore scorch marks—traces of celestial and abyssal energy colliding. Kael knelt, tracing a burned sigil in the dirt.
"See this? It's not random. It's part of a seal. The same kind I once guarded for the Hollow Sun."
Lyra's eyes widened.
"Then the demons aren't just invading—they're targeting your old strongholds."
"Not just strongholds," Kael whispered. "Memories. The Abyss feeds on meaning. Every place tied to the old war strengthens its reach."
Auren stared into the sky where faint streaks of gold and black clashed like veins of lightning.
"Then the war isn't coming…""It's already here."
He drew his sword and planted it into the ground, golden flame rippling outward.
"We make our stand at dawn. But if what you say is true, Kael—then we'll need every ally willing to stand against the dark."
Kael looked up at him, something like sorrow flickering behind his half-lit eyes.
"You'll have me, Auren. But you should know—part of me still listens when the Abyss calls."
Auren's reply was quiet but resolute.
"Then we'll remind it who you once were."
As they camped that night beneath the fractured stars, Auren sat alone by the fire. The flames bent strangely, whispering.
The half-light will not last.When dawn comes, the shadow will remember its shape.
He opened his eyes, the karmic sigil on his gauntlet pulsing faintly.The whispers weren't just in his head anymore.The Abyss was listening.
"Even the brightest flame casts a shadow—and sometimes, that shadow still remembers the warmth."