Chapter 5 – The Omega Who Shattered Fate
Lyra didn't sleep that night.
Not with the mirrors whispering fragments of her own soul. Not with the Abyss Prince standing just beyond reach, silent and shadowed, like a war she hadn't yet declared.
She sat on the edge of the bed in the chamber they had brought her to—if it could be called a bed. The silks were black as the void, embroidered with threads of starlight. And the frame… it pulsed. With breath? With memory? She wasn't sure.
Every part of this castle seemed to be alive. Watching her.
Marking her.
She touched the glowing sigil on her chest. The mark had changed again—now it bloomed like a flower made of fire and thorns, edged in violet, stitched in silver. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat. No. Not hers. His.
She stood.
And the shadows moved with her.
When she opened the door, the corridor outside was filled with silence so thick it vibrated in her ears. Two guards stood at attention—if you could call them guards. They were tall, faceless things in dark armor that breathed. Their eyes—if they had eyes—glowed faintly blue, like ice melting under moonlight.
They didn't speak. Just bowed their heads.
"She is allowed to roam," a voice said from the corridor's end. "But nowhere near the crypt."
It was him.
The Abyss Prince.
He stood beneath a carved archway, his hair loose, his robes lined with symbols that shimmered as he moved. Not royal garb. Battle garb.
"Why?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "What are you hiding there?"
"Nothing you're ready to face."
"And when will I be ready?"
"When the mark claims you fully."
She walked up to him—defiant, fire-eyed, trembling only inside.
"I don't need your permission to face the truth."
He studied her for a long moment. "No. You don't. But you're not the only one who'll suffer if the truth is touched too early."
That stopped her. "What do you mean?"
Instead of answering, he lifted a hand—and a wave of silver-black mist swirled between them. Within it, an image formed:
A battlefield.
Her face.
Her body.
Her voice screaming, not in rage—but in betrayal.
At him.
"No!" she stepped back, breath ragged.
"That is one of the futures," he said. "One of many the Abyss has already seen."
Her hands curled into fists. "So I become your enemy?"
"You become my ending."
His voice was hollow. And somehow… grieving.
She wanted to hit him. Kiss him. Scream. She did none.
Instead, she whispered, "Then why mark me at all?"
"Because fate doesn't ask," he said. "It binds. And it always costs something."
The corridor shimmered around them. The stone darkened. And somewhere beneath the castle, a scream echoed—deep, long, and ancient.
He turned, gaze sharpening. "You woke something."
Lyra flinched. "I didn't do anything."
"No," he said. "But the mark did."
The guards moved suddenly, turning toward the crypt doors as if summoned. The air changed—turned cold, sharp like broken glass.
"We have to move," the Prince said.
"Where?"
"To the throne room. It's the only place that holds the seals."
She followed him, heart thudding with fear she didn't want to name.
But when they reached the massive doors of the throne room, she froze.
Because there—carved into the stone—was her name.
Not in ink. Not in paint.
But in blood.
"Lyra," she whispered.
And beneath it…
Queen of the Abyss.
---
The doors opened.
The throne room beyond was not made of gold, or stone, or steel.
It was made of bone.
Thousands—no, millions—of bones.
And at the very center, atop a blackened, spiked pedestal, was a throne carved of obsidian and soul-fire.
Empty.
Waiting.
He turned to her. "This is what the Abyss remembers. This is what you forgot."
"I ruled here?"
"You will again."
Her knees trembled.
He stepped close. "If you choose to."
"And if I don't?"
His jaw tensed. "Then the Abyss will choose for you. And I will be forced to obey its will."
"You'd fight me?"
"No," he said, voice raw. "I'd die for you. Again."
"Again?" she whispered.
But he was already walking forward, toward the throne, toward a past they hadn't fully remembered—and a war that hadn't yet begun.
---
End of Chapter 5