> "To walk upon the remnants of death is to feel the weight of all that was lost. But in the heart of decay, new horrors often bloom."
> — Lore of the Necrotic Isles, Drowned East
>
Selene slumped against a grotesque bone-structure on the surface of the Throne Below, gasping for breath. Her face was pale, but her eyes, though wide with the terrifying knowledge of her own latent power, held a new, chilling clarity. The ancient voice that called her "my child" had been the Soul Weaver, a fallen Scion consumed by the Shard of Death and Void, who had sought to make her his heir.
"He tried to make me his heir," Selene whispered, her voice hoarse, filled with lingering horror. "To bind all suffering by making it nothing. His aim was absolute negation, a terrifying form of peace." She shuddered. "His memories... they tried to consume me. His purpose... to unravel reality, starting with emotion."
Ash knelt beside her, exhausted. He had used his Shard of Harmony and Chaos and the Core of Binding to anchor Selene, to affirm her life against the void's pull. The sheer power of Death and Void emanating from the Throne Below was immense, a pervasive chill that sought to unmake everything.
"This entire island is a living prison," Master Elara breathed, his gaze sweeping the horrifying landscape of decaying flesh, ancient bones, and rusted metal. "The Soul Weaver himself is bound within its core, his will forever feeding its power of negation. Every step here is a step closer to oblivion."
Kael, grim-faced, surveyed their surroundings. The squelching ground, the whispers of lost souls, the bone-structures that rose like decaying trees – it was a nightmare made real. His Path of Frost, deeply attuned to Order and Preservation, struggled against the pervasive unmaking, but also provided a strange, unfeeling clarity. He could see the intricate patterns of decay, the slow unraveling.
"We need to get off this... thing," Lyra stated, her voice tight with disgust and fear. She ran her hand over a rusted metal plate embedded in the decaying flesh, recoiling instantly. "It feels like it's trying to absorb my life."
They began to move across the horrifying surface of the Throne Below, searching for an exit. The terrain was treacherous. Parts of the ground squelched underfoot, other parts were brittle and cracked. Spectral Souls of Negation drifted through the mist, their hollow forms reaching, subtly trying to draw their warmth, their life. Ash's Shard of Harmony and Chaos pulsed, acting as a constant warning, highlighting the areas of stronger negation, allowing him to perceive fleeting paths of stability.
Selene, now with a terrifying new understanding of her Path of the Hollow, began to move with an eerie purpose. Her hands wove subtle patterns in the air, creating small, localized fields of pure negation. These weren't attacks, but rather zones that momentarily countered the pervasive unmaking of the Throne Below, allowing them to pass through otherwise impassable areas of intense decay or spectral density. She was using negation to create paths of non-negation.
"My Path allows me to understand its essence," Selene whispered, her voice thin. "The Soul Weaver seeks to unmake all. But even ultimate negation has its limits. There are currents of non-existence that can be ridden."
Kael, seeing the physical dangers, took the lead, his armored boots finding purchase on the more stable bone-structures. His Path of Frost allowed him to brace against the draining pull of the void. He even used the cold stillness to discern solid ground from decaying traps, his movements precise and efficient.
They navigated deeper into the Throne Below's grotesque interior. They found passages formed from ancient, calcified organs, and tunnels carved through what looked like solidified fear. The whispers of lost souls grew louder here, a tormenting cacophony that echoed directly in Ash's mind, a constant reminder of the beings that had been unmade.
Suddenly, Ash felt the Core of Binding pulse. Its familiar link to Captain Valerius surged, indicating the Captain had arrived at the edge of the Throne Below. He was sending out waves of his Will, probing the living island, trying to find a stable entry point, his furious determination unwavering even in the face of the horrifying spectacle.
"Valerius is here," Ash rasped, pointing back towards the coastline. "He's at the edge of the Throne Below. He won't hesitate to enter."
"He will be consumed," Elara whispered, trembling. "Unless he is a Scion of Will himself, he cannot endure this place. Its power will break his will, and then unmake him."
They reached what appeared to be the Throne Below's exterior boundary – a cliff of hardened, ancient flesh overlooking the churning, dark waters of the Drowned East. There was no clear path off the island, only the endless, murky water and the distant wailing of the Ashen Choir.
"We're trapped again," Lyra muttered, frustration coloring her voice. "Nowhere to go. And Valerius is right behind us."
Selene, however, stared at the churning waters below the cliff, her eyes distant. "No. The Soul Weaver creates ultimate negation, drawing all into the void. But there is a counter to ultimate negation. A point of profound Rebirth. A current of raw, elemental creation that flows even through death." She looked at Ash, her eyes glowing faintly. "The Library Without Walls. It is located in the heart of this very ocean. It is a place of endless memories, endless possibility. It is the perfect counterpoint to this place of unmaking."
Ash felt his Shard of Harmony and Chaos surge with profound recognition. He remembered Elara mentioning the Library, a sentient archive. And the Core of Binding, which had led him to Lord Valerius's despair, now pulsed with a faint, insistent tug towards the very depths of the Drowned East, towards the concept of endless memory. He knew what Selene was suggesting. They would have to leave the relative "safety" of the surface and plunge into the Queen of Sorrow's waters, towards a legendary place that defied physical reality.