Rain poured heavily over the ruins of the fallen city of Karynthos, soaking the shattered stones and the corpses of demons that littered the battlefield. Thunder rolled above as if echoing the fury that had unfolded just hours ago.
Rael stood still amidst the aftermath, his dark armor cracked and splattered with blackened ichor. His Abyssal Eye, once glowing with fury, was dim. The battle had been won—but not without cost. Dozens of soldiers from the Resistance had perished, including Commander Tyron, a man who had once been like a father to many.
Liora approached silently, her robe tattered, her staff barely clutched in her hand. "It's over… for now," she said.
"No," Rael replied, his voice low. "This was just a whisper. The Abyss is only beginning to stir."
Behind them, the remaining survivors began tending to the wounded and burning the corrupted remains of demons to prevent resurrection. The foul mist that had choked the city was slowly dissipating, but the air still carried traces of decay.
Suddenly, Rael's Abyssal Eye flickered again—this time not in anger, but in warning.
He turned abruptly.
From the shadows, a hooded figure emerged—a man with pale blue skin and sigils carved across his face like a forgotten language. "You have awakened the Forsaken," the stranger said. "And now, they're watching."
Rael narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"I am a Seer of the Void, messenger of the Deep One. I have come not to fight, but to warn. The Abyss does not favor traitors—nor kings who think they can master it."
The stranger pulled a small black crystal from his cloak and tossed it toward Rael. It pulsed with violet energy.
Liora caught it with a warding spell before it could hit the ground. "What is this?"
"A key," the Seer said cryptically. "To a prison buried in a place you've already forgotten."
With that, the Seer stepped back and vanished into a portal of shadow.
Rael stared at the spot where he vanished. His thoughts raced. A prison? Forgotten? Could it be tied to his missing memories? To the voices in his dreams?
Later that night, Rael sat near a dying campfire, the black crystal in hand. When he touched it, a vision surged through him—chains wrapped around a colossal creature beneath the ocean floor, and eyes—countless eyes—watching from the darkness.
He gasped, pulling his hand back. "That… wasn't a dream."
Liora approached, sitting beside him. "Something's changed in you," she whispered. "Since the Abyssal Mark awakened fully, it's like you're… connected to something deeper."
"I am," Rael admitted. "And if this crystal is a key… then we may be the ones unlocking a door that was meant to stay sealed."
"We can destroy it."
"No," Rael said firmly. "We need to know what's behind that door. If it's a weapon—if it's truth—it could change everything."
The wind howled around them, as if the world itself disagreed.
Far to the north, in the icy land of Valthren, a tower cracked open as an ancient seal broke. The Forsaken—long-imprisoned exiles of the Abyss—opened their eyes for the first time in millennia. And they were hungry.
The Age of Reclamation was over.
The Age of Collapse had begun.