The ancient map, brittle and smelling of forgotten ages, felt impossibly heavy in Jodi's hand. Its parchment, thin as dried skin, seemed to absorb the faint, ethereal glow that still lingered in the Curator's vast chamber. He stood before the silent, hooded figure, the weight of the revelations crushing him. Liam's betrayal, the true nature of "The Abandoned One" within him, the impossible quest to the Sunken City of Aethelgard – it was a burden that threatened to buckle his knees.
"You understand the gravity of your task, Jodi?" the Curator's voice, a soft murmur of ancient leaves, broke the profound silence. "This is not merely a rescue. It is a confrontation with your very essence. And the GCA will stop at nothing to claim what they believe is theirs."
Jodi's gaze was fixed on the map, his jaw tight. "They already tried to claim it. And they used Liam to do it." The words were laced with a bitterness that burned his throat. The memory of Liam's chilling smile, the alien gleam in his eyes, was a constant, searing brand.
"He chose," the cold, ancient voice of "The Abandoned One" whispered in his mind, its tone devoid of sympathy, yet resonating with a profound, cosmic understanding of betrayal. "He chose to abandon you. As all others have. As all others will. This is the truth, Jodi. The truth of your existence. Embrace it. Embrace the emptiness."
Jodi flinched, a tremor running through him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, fighting the insidious pull, the seductive promise of oblivion for his pain. "No," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "I won't. Not yet."
He looked at the Curator, his eyes burning with a raw, desperate resolve. "Tell me what I need to know about Aethelgard. About this 'Heart of the Void.' Every detail. Every danger."
The Curator nodded slowly, his ancient gaze piercing. "Aethelgard was once a city of profound knowledge, built by a civilization that sought to understand the very fabric of reality. They delved too deep, touched upon forces beyond their comprehension. They encountered 'The Abandoned One' in its primal form, a cosmic entity cast out from creation, a void yearning to be filled. They attempted to contain it, to study it, to harness its power. They failed."
"What happened?" Jodi asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"The city was consumed," the Curator replied, his voice grave. "Not by fire or flood, but by the very essence of 'The Abandoned One.' It became a reflection of its nature: a place of profound emptiness, of forgotten truths, of echoes of what once was. The 'Heart of the Void' is the remnant of their attempt to contain it, a nexus where its power is most concentrated. The GCA believes it can control this nexus, to fully awaken and command 'The Abandoned One' through you, its vessel."
Jodi felt a cold dread. "And if they succeed?"
"Then the world as you know it will cease to be," the Curator said, his voice quiet but firm. "It will be remade in the image of 'The Abandoned One.' A world purged of all that is deemed 'weak,' 'unworthy,' 'abandoned.' A world of perfect, cold order, born from ultimate chaos."
Jodi clenched his fists. "I won't let that happen." He thought of Liam, of the chilling smile. Liam had chosen this. He had bought into this twisted vision. The thought fueled a fresh surge of bitter determination. He would not let Liam's betrayal be for nothing. He would not let the world fall to this madness.
"The path is perilous," the Curator warned, his eyes fixed on Jodi. "The tunnels beneath the city are not merely abandoned; they are guarded. By the cult's zealots, yes. But also by the lingering influence of 'The Abandoned One' itself. The deeper you go, the more its presence will try to consume you. It will whisper. It will tempt. It will try to make you embrace the very emptiness that defines it."
"Embrace me, Jodi," the voice of "The Abandoned One" purred in his mind, a seductive hum. "Embrace the truth. Become whole. Become the ultimate abandoner. Only then will you truly be free. Only then will you truly rise above the petty betrayals of the weak."
Jodi gritted his teeth, fighting the insidious pull. The temptation was immense, a dark, sweet promise of oblivion for his pain, of vengeance for his betrayal. To simply let go, to unleash the power, to become the destructive force that would make all who had abandoned him tremble.
"I understand," Jodi said, his voice strained but firm. "I'm ready."
He turned, the map clutched in his hand, and walked towards the hidden door that had brought him into the archives. He didn't look back. There was nothing left for him in the stillness. Only the path ahead.
The tunnel beyond the Curator's archives was even older, darker, and narrower than the storm drains. The air was dry, dusty, thick with the scent of ancient stone and something else – something faintly metallic, like old blood, or rust on forgotten machinery. The walls were rough-hewn, showing the marks of ancient tools, not modern construction. This was a place that had been abandoned for millennia.
Jodi moved with a renewed sense of purpose, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. He held the map out, his flashlight beam illuminating the intricate lines and symbols. The Curator's instructions had been precise, detailing hidden passages, forgotten checkpoints, and areas where the "veil between worlds" was thin.
"A fool's errand," "The Abandoned One" whispered, its voice a constant, mocking companion in his mind. "You seek to save the one who cast you aside. You seek to understand what cannot be understood. You cling to hope where there is only despair."
"I cling to my own choice," Jodi retorted aloud, his voice rough, echoing in the confined space. "I choose not to be defined by what others have done to me. I choose to fight."
He thought of Liam. The pain was still a raw, open wound, but beneath it, a cold, hard resolve was forming. Liam had chosen his path. Jodi would choose his. He would save Liam from the cult's ultimate consumption, not out of naive loyalty, but out of a fierce, desperate need to prove that abandonment did not have to be the end. That there was a way to rise above, even the deepest betrayal.
The tunnel descended sharply, the air growing colder. He passed crumbling alcoves, their contents long since turned to dust, or perhaps plundered by the cult. He saw faint, glowing glyphs on the walls, ancient warnings, or perhaps prayers to forgotten gods. The influence of "The Abandoned One" was stronger here, a subtle pressure on his mind, a constant hum that resonated with the presence within him.
He remembered a day, years ago, in junior school. He and Liam, huddled behind the dilapidated gym, bruised and tearful after another beating from Kael and his cronies.
"Why do they hate us, Jodi?" Liam had whispered, his small voice trembling. "What did we do?"
"Nothing," Jodi had replied, his own eyes burning with unshed tears. "It's not about us. It's about them. They just… they just like to make others feel small. To make them feel abandoned."
He had pulled Liam closer, a fierce, protective instinct already stirring within him, even then. "But we're not abandoned," Jodi had vowed, his voice firm. "We have each other. We'll always have each other."
The memory was a fresh stab of agony. Liam had shattered that vow. He had proven Kael right. He had proven the world right. He had proven "The Abandoned One" right.
"See?" the cold voice purred. "A lie. All bonds are lies. All promises are broken. There is only the self. Only the power you wield. Embrace it. Embrace me. Let us purge this weakness, this foolish sentimentality."
Jodi stumbled, his vision blurring. He pressed his hand against his chest, feeling the cold, vast presence within him surge, threatening to overwhelm him. He could feel its hunger, its desire for destruction, its profound, cosmic loneliness. It wanted to merge. It wanted to be free.
"No!" Jodi gasped, forcing the word out. He slammed his fist against his chest, trying to physically suppress the power. "You won't break me! Not like this!"
He forced himself to focus on the map, on the intricate pathways. He needed to find a specific junction, a place marked with a symbol that looked like a shattered star. It was a point where the GCA had established a forward observation post, a place he would have to bypass or neutralize.
He moved with renewed caution, his senses stretched to their limit. The air grew colder, the faint metallic tang stronger. He could hear distant, muffled sounds now – the clink of metal, a low, guttural voice. They were close.
He found the junction. A wide, circular cavern, dimly lit by a single, flickering torch. In the center, a crude camp had been set up. Three cultists, cloaked and armed, stood guard. Their faces were obscured by deep hoods, but Jodi could feel their presence, their cold, disciplined energy. They were GCA elite, not the rabble he had faced in the warehouse.
He pulled out his throwing knives, their blades glinting dully in the faint light. His hands were steady. His mind was clear. The "cultist" part of him, the part he had tried to bury, was fully awake, honed by years of self-imposed discipline and now, by the crucible of betrayal.
He analyzed the layout. Three guards. Standard patrol patterns. Two stationary, one patrolling. He could take them. But silently? The risk of alerting others was high. He needed to be quick. Brutal. And leave no trace.
"Unleash me, Jodi," "The Abandoned One" whispered, its voice a low, seductive hum. "Let me cleanse this space. Let me show you true power. The power to abandon all resistance."
Jodi ignored it. He moved, a silent shadow detaching from the deeper darkness. He was a ghost, a whisper of motion. He took down the patrolling guard first, a quick, precise strike to the neck, severing the carotid artery. No sound. The body slumped, already cold.
The two stationary guards shifted, their attention drawn by a faint scrape of his boot on the stone. Too late. Jodi launched himself forward, a blur of motion.
The first guard barely had time to raise his weapon before Jodi was on him, a knife flashing, striking a vital point in the arm, disarming him. Before the guard could cry out, Jodi's other hand clamped over his mouth, and a second, brutal strike to the temple rendered him unconscious. He dragged the body into the shadows.
The last guard, startled, spun around, drawing a short, curved blade. "Who's there?" he hissed, his voice tight with fear.
Jodi stepped into the flickering torchlight, his face grim, his eyes burning with a cold, determined light. "Someone you shouldn't have abandoned."
The guard lunged, his blade a silver arc. Jodi met him, his movements fluid, precise, a deadly dance. He parried the strike, the clash of metal echoing in the cavern. He saw an opening, a flicker of hesitation in the guard's eyes. He exploited it, driving his knee into the guard's gut, forcing a gasp. As the guard doubled over, Jodi's knife flashed, a quick, clean strike to the neck, silencing him.
He stood over the fallen guard, his chest heaving, his breath ragged. Three cultists. Done. No alarms. No sounds. He was still the best.
But as the last cultist fell, he felt that familiar, unsettling sensation. The subtle ripple of dark energy, the parasitic drain, or perhaps, something trying to enter him. It was stronger this time, a cold tendril reaching for the "Abandoned One" within him, trying to forge a connection.
"They seek to bind me," "The Abandoned One" whispered, its voice filled with a cold fury. "To control what cannot be controlled. To shackle what was cast free. Destroy them, Jodi. Destroy them all."
Jodi stumbled back, pressing his hands against his temples. The voices were louder. The presence was more insistent. He could feel the raw power surging, wanting to lash out, to obliterate not just the cultists, but the very tunnel itself. He was fighting a war on two fronts: against the GCA, and against the terrifying entity within him.
He quickly dragged the bodies into the deepest shadows, concealing them as best he could. He extinguished the flickering torch, plunging the cavern into darkness once more. He didn't want to linger. The longer he stayed, the more he risked detection, and the more he risked succumbing to the power that now raged within him.
He pulled out the map again, his flashlight beam illuminating the next section of the forgotten passages. The path led deeper, towards the heart of the earth, towards Aethelgard.
He felt the profound loneliness of "The Abandoned One" within him, a vast, cosmic emptiness that resonated with his own personal agony. Liam's betrayal had stripped him bare, leaving him utterly exposed. But in that raw, vulnerable state, he had also found a new kind of strength. A cold, fierce determination born not of hope, but of necessity.
He was no longer just Jodi, the security guard. He was the cultist, a master of shadows and violence. He was the vessel, the conduit for "The Abandoned One." And he was alone. Utterly, profoundly alone.
But he would not give up. He would not accept defeat. He would rise. Not for them. Not for revenge, not solely. He would rise to understand. To control. To fight. To redefine what "The Abandoned One" truly meant. He would find the Curator. He would find answers. And then… then they would all pay.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, the air cold and dusty in his lungs. He had to keep moving. He had to keep fighting. The descent had begun. And "The Abandoned One," abandoned by all, was about to begin its true ascent into destiny.