Morning in the Abyss Palace
A soft knock.
Then a whisper, barely audible.
"My prince… it is time."
Ash opened his eyes.
No dreams lingered. Only silence, and the steady beat of something deep within him — a rhythm that now belonged not to a child, but to something greater. He sat up slowly, the silken sheets falling from his shoulders, and his feet touched the obsidian floor with practiced calm.
As always, the air here felt heavier than anywhere else — thick with abyssal essence.
He rose and walked to the tall mirror that stood beside the wall.
There, his reflection waited.
His body, once small and fragile, had now grown into that of a healthy six-year-old. Slender but sturdy, tempered by pain and shaped by power. But it was not his stature that drew his attention.
It was what marked him.
Upon his head, two pairs of horns curved upward from his dark hair — elegant, yet unmistakably inhuman. The upper pair was slightly longer, while the lower set curled more tightly, like twin crescents of obsidian bone. Their surfaces shimmered faintly, catching traces of abyssal light.
His eyes…
They were voids.
Not black, but emptiness itself. Eyes that seemed to drink in the light around them, reflections swallowed whole. They were not cold — they were infinite, like the heart of the Abyss staring back at the world.
Behind him, small wings stirred — not yet large enough for flight, but growing. Shadow-feathered and faintly translucent, they flexed subtly with his breath.
His hair had grown too, falling now past his cheeks and into his vision, a cascade of silken black. As he studied himself, his maid moved silently behind him, her fingers working with delicate precision to dress him.
He did not need to speak.
By now, she understood his rhythms.
Once his robes were fastened — dark silk with etched patterns of abyssal runes — she gently brushed his hair aside, tucking it back so it would no longer veil his gaze.
A quiet moment passed.
Then, without a word, they stepped out into the corridor.
The Abyss Palace was vast — halls carved from ancient blackstone, lit by lanterns that held silent flames. As Ash walked toward the dining chamber, something new stirred in his awareness.
He felt them.
Every living presence in the hall pulsed within his senses now — like flickers of essence dancing against a backdrop of silence.
His maid, walking beside him, radiated a deep, calming abyssal aura — familiar, maternal, and steady. The guards posted at the archways pulsed like embers in shadow, their demonic cores flaring briefly as he passed.
Other presences appeared as smoke, ash, flame, or stone — subtle echoes of their bloodlines.
None of this had been visible to him before.
But now, at Tier Two — Awakened — the veil had begun to lift. His senses, once dulled, now stretched outward like unseen wings.
He did not yet understand it fully, but he felt the truth in his bones:
He was beginning to see the world as it truly was.
Ash halted before the great obsidian doors of the dining hall. The polished stone reflected his faint silhouette, but his focus was not on the surface — it was within.
He felt them.
A presence… vast. Ancient. Weightless and crushing all at once — like the Abyss, but more still, more centered. It pulsed at the heart of the chamber like a starless gravity, drawing all things toward it.
His father.
And around that presence, three others — not as vast, but still immense. Familiar, intertwined with his blood and memory.
His family.
Then, smaller flames: four presences, each brighter than his own… for now. His siblings.
Ash stepped forward, and the doors opened without a word. The hall's silence greeted him like an old friend.
The Eyes of Blood
As he entered, seven pairs of eyes turned to meet him.
He did not flinch. He only saw.
His first mother, seated with poise at the right hand of the Emperor.Elaenora Veyl Seraphyx.Her silver hair shimmered like starlight, tinged with ash-gray, cascading past black-feathered wings. Her eyes — golden-silver-gray — bore the gaze of a fallen angel, one who had stared into both light and void.Her presence pulsed like black light — paradoxical, regal, divine.She wore white, embroidered with pale runes that glowed faintly when he looked too long.
His second mother, beside her —Valessara Dray'Karth.Crimson hair curled like flame, and her horns swept back proudly. Her golden eyes radiated with volcanic heat. The deep crimson of her gown matched the aura that surrounded her: a sleeping volcano, restrained, burning inward.Ash could feel the fierce fire in her blood.
His third mother, veiled in softer shadows —Nyrelle Umbrosyn.She was pale as moonlight, her black hair flowing like ink. Her violet eyes glinted with unreadable depth, and her aura slithered through the corners of the room.She was shadow incarnate, but beneath that darkness, there was something deeper — an echo of the Abyss.
Then Ash turned to the four children seated farther down the long table.
His first sister, Lyseria, now nine — radiant and still.Her silver hair fell in waves, her eyes the same golden-silver hue as their mother's. The Will of the Fallen rested quietly in her gaze.Her presence was a lightless star, a blend of divine radiance and abyssal silence — black light tinged with deep night.
His first brother, Kaelreth, eight —Crimson-haired, with horns sharper than his grin, golden-red eyes alight with pride.His aura danced like a fierce inferno, edged in abyssal heat.
His second sister, Saryne, Kaelreth's twin —Crimson hair like their mother, but her eyes held calm rather than fire.Her aura was a steady flame, warm but unyielding — precise, measured.
His second brother, Malrik, seven —Skin pale as frost, black hair parted to reveal subtle violet eyes, his horns curved tighter.His presence moved like shifting shadows, but deeper within, Ash sensed the same abyssal pull that now flowed in himself.
And then — His Father.
Vael Drakthar Nocthys Vael'Abyss.
He did not move. Did not speak.
But his nod was enough.
Like a decree passed in silence.
They had all felt it — the change in him. The awakening. The echo of the Abyss had answered him, and now it marked his breath, his steps, his blood.
He took his seat wordlessly.
Around him, their eyes lingered a moment longer — a silent congratulations, unspoken but understood.
And though no words were exchanged, Ash felt it:
He belonged at this table now — not only as a child, but as a rising will within the Abyssal Bloodline.