The light faded, and Kaelen found himself standing in a vast hall of obsidian and fire. The walls curved upward into an endless ceiling of shifting constellations, stars that pulsed in rhythm with the same ancient heartbeat he'd felt at the gate.
At the center of the hall stood a throne carved from black stone and molten gold. Upon it sat a figure—tall, regal, and utterly still. His armor was etched with runes that glowed faintly red, and a long, jagged crown rested upon his brow.
When the figure's eyes opened, Kaelen froze. They were the same piercing silver as his own.
"So," the man said, his voice deep and steady, "my shadow has arrived."
Kaelen's pulse quickened. "You're… the first Keeper."
The man rose, every movement precise, deliberate. "Once. Long ago, I was chosen to hold the Abyss, as you are now. But I was not content to hold it. I sought to master it… to become something more."
The Abyss inside Kaelen recoiled, whispering urgently: He is the Betrayer.
The man stepped forward, and with each step, the constellations above shifted, forming images of battle, betrayal, and ruin. "The Abyss is a prison, Keeper. Not for you—" his gaze sharpened, "—but for what lies beyond. I tried to open the way, and for my failure, I was bound here."
Kaelen clenched his fists. "Bound… by who?"
The man smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "By the ones you trust the least—and yet serve the most."
Kaelen felt the weight of his words. "The Council."
"Free me," the Original Keeper said, his voice like thunder in a cavern, "and I will show you the truth they've kept from you. Refuse… and you will die in chains, just as I have."
The Abyss writhed violently inside Kaelen, torn between rage and desire. For the first time, the choice felt truly his—and terrifying.
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