THE BLACK THORN CODEX
Episode 19 — The First Altar
November 15, 2023 — 6:00 a.m.
> At dawn, the Altar of the Abyss gave birth to a permanent opening. Clarisse, now a prisoner of the entity, was nothing more than a vector. And Marseille, unknowingly, had just become the first living altar of the Codex.
The sun was rising over Marseille, but its light could not reach under the bridge. The black light persisted, dense and shifting, absorbing every nuance of color. The open eye in the crack of the Altar of the Abyss pulsed like a living heart.
Clarisse lay on her knees, gasping for breath, still pierced by the entity. Her green eyes, once human, now reflected the abyss she carried within. The Guardians of the Threshold had disappeared, but their invisible presence weighed on the bridge. Every stone seemed to be holding its breath, as if the world were waiting for an event no one was ready to face.
Léandre arrived running, the Codex still clutched to his chest. He knelt beside Clarisse, trying to discern the part of her that still belonged to him. The Altar was no longer a mere relic: it was alive, and its crack was a mouth ready to swallow anything that approached it.
"Clarisse..." he murmured, trying to meet her gaze.
She stared at him, unable to speak. The black veins running down her arms seemed to pulse with a will of their own. The entity within her waited, patient, ready to cross the threshold and widen the opening of the Chasm.
Léandre gently placed his hands on Clarisse's, trying to make human contact. He felt the Altar's energy reverberate through his body, a force that wanted to separate them, isolate them. Each beat seemed to whisper to him:
> "You can't do anything against me..."
Clarisse, despite the possession, moved her head weakly. She wanted to resist, but the entity was exhausting her. The whispers of the vanished drowned rose again, like a silent chorus that enveloped the entire bridge.
Leander understood then that the Altar wasn't just seeking an immediate sacrifice. It was seeking to establish a lasting connection, to transform the bridge itself into a living portal.
"We must find a way to close this crack," Leander said, his voice trembling but firm.
Clarisse closed her eyes, as if to concentrate, and a hot breath escaped from her chest. The entity groaned, protesting against this resistance.
The bridge vibrated beneath their feet. The ancient stones cracked further, and the fissure in the Altar slowly grew, revealing a deep, endless blackness. Léandre felt fear rising, but he knew he could not give in.
"Together," he murmured, "we must contain the Abyss."
Clarisse nodded weakly. Even though she no longer had complete control of her body, her human will still resisted, fragile but determined.
The wind rushed under the bridge, carrying the murmurs of swallowed souls, and for a moment, time seemed suspended. The Altar, motionless but alive, waited.
And in the distance, the city of Marseille continued to sleep, unaware that its destiny had just changed forever.