Shadow of the Abyss

The guttural howls of men that he had been following were like music to Therions ears. It had been nearly two weeks since he had started tracking these men from the City of Armeth. He had quite the talent for it, especially when he commanded darkness. A gift, no doubt, from his Master. He had heard that Tenebrae the Night Mother was his Master's only son.

It only stood to reason that her affinity would be transferred to his Master, Altair Blackwood. It was very fitting.

It was he who ordered he follow those who had sought his Master's life. The men from the Shadow Tower. At least, that was how it started until he learned about a different group of men. He might have missed it if Alyssa hadn't come running with a message from his Master's Protector.

Why the Protector sent Alyssa was beyond his comprehension; the woman had no sort of ability when it came to stealth. It was as if she walked with pots strapped to her feet, clacking about down for everyone to hear—at least she had a good ass. It was a shame. A true shame she was promised to the Master. The woman certainly had the best ass out of everyone.

The men, if they could be called men since they were, were all missing that specific appendage and had gathered around a professor late in the Night the day his Master had left. If not for his Spiritual Domain, he might have missed that they were all cockless.

The men were all armed with Spear and Shields, both as gold as the morning sun, all arriving to meet one man, a professor.

'He must be Atticus,' Therion thought, moving closer from one shadow to the next, hiding amongst the ranks of men. He was glad it was Night, where shadows flickered beneath the moon's glow. The more they danced, the less chance he had of being discovered.

They had gathered in a secluded courtyard, the weakest being within the Fifth Circle, the strongest being Ninth Circle.

"Altair Blackwood is Nox De Neir," Atticus conveyed once everyone had gathered. A team of fifty men.

One of the men, a tall, dark-skinned man with a strong beard, stepped forward. "Is there proof?" His tone was flat, nearly devoid of what made Humans human.

"None but—"

"If you claim Altair Blackwood is Nox De Neir, so it shall be." The dark-skinned man remarked. "We will move out."

"Just like that?" Atticus professed.

The black man turned his men following behind. "If you are wrong and Nox De Neir is proven to be unrelated, You will merely have to pay for another bounty." And he was gone.

Therion stayed with the men as they left the city the day of. Apparently, they had sent another squad after Nox, having arrived at the same conclusion before Atticus had informed them.

That had bothered Therion. There was no physical evidence, but somehow, they managed to connect Altair to Nox. And if they had done so, then who was to say that the gods hadn't made a similar connection? It was idle speculation, but the thought clung to the mind for nearly two weeks.

Their leader, Sammel, like his brethren, was a man of focus. By the time they had left Armeth, they had not allowed a single distraction to lead them astray. There were plenty. Entire campsites of mutilated bodies, leaving little to Imagination on how these men and women were killed. There was not a single blade of grass that wasn't red.

Worse, for some reason, no opportunistic animal bothered to claim a free meal.

It was as if there was unseamed evil to these bodies.

Sammel did not bother to investigate. If not for Alyssa, Therion might have been forced to also ignore it, though there was nothing to report. No matter how much Alyssa tried tracking the source of the slaughter, all evidence stated that it was a specter of some sort. Nothing they could do about it, not without time and effort. Read exclusive content at empire

So they left it alone, hiding in the shadows of Sammel men tracking their Master. Presently, they had a single goal, and that was learning how they were following him. From the time they all left, Armeth Sammel's men had managed to track their Master without the slightest misturn or even when elements had disrupted their tracks.

He had hoped it wasn't a strange innate ability but rather something else. An artifact of sorts.

After two weeks of nothing, the order finally came down from Raven. "Kill Sammel and his men at nightfall and trap their souls."

That had been a mistake. Therion had tried explaining, but it had seemed like Raven was only following her Master's orders.

Reluctantly, Therion and Alyssa struck the Night after the men's camp had been set up. He had slipped into Sammel's dome-shaped tent and struck while the man was meditating. A dagger, his choice of weapon, had plunged through his throat without a hint of resistance, entering through the spine to explode out his Adam's apple.

All that was left were his guttural gasps for air, weaving like sandpaper on wood.

Sammel did not outright die; his eyes snapped open, and despite his predicament, he managed to pull himself out of his dagger, gaining as much reach to strike with the back of his palm.

Therion was more than surprised. Initially, he had planned to dodge by taking a step back, but he had to tilt his dagger marginally to the side to stop that palm that somehow managed to transition into a razor-sharp longsword from severing his head.

Embers blazed across his dagger's edge; he parried the off-handed stroke away and lunged, taking a step into Sammel's range before he could catch his equilibrium.

"Who!" Was all Sammel was able to iterate before Therion's fingertip touched his chest. A vale-wrought blade appeared, punctuating his chest, before gaining hundreds of thousands of spikes, splintering through his body like mini roots until there was no distinction between blood vessels and vale-wrought spikes.

[Sammel Felled. Exp Gained]

[All Exp gained is given to the Servents Master]

[Soul Flame of Sammel Collected]

Therion did not so much as blink, hurrying down to take his Draupnir Ring before hurrying out of Sammels tent to assist Alyssa. Shadow flames blazed across the setting woods, ravaging the Night as men screamed, shouting for the death of the intruders.

He heard none of it, opening himself to his Master's lineage, an image of a beautiful woman with hair finer than silk and deeper than the blackest Night, illuminated through his being.

Stars above the Night dimmed and faded, like fleeting light, vanishing into a void of nothingness, offering a night as black as the abyss. Color and sound all faded as Alyssa and Therion moved like the wild hunt of legend, reaping souls of any circle. By the time light returned to the Night, the campsite was deafly silent.

"You overdid it," Alyssa said, throwing Therion a canister of water as he gasped.

The Demonic Forsaken teeth flashed brightly across his face, catching the canister. "If we want to stand by our master's side, we need to be stronger."

Alyssa went silent for a while before she said, "You are indeed right. But what was that technique you just used?"

Therion chuckled, thankful for the water. It was like cool ice on top of molten steel. He was burning up. "I tried using the image of the Night Mothers to channel a spell. Since the Night originated with her, I figured it would strengthen my spell, Black Night. It basically devours light and sound, including vibrations, to all who don't have an affinity towards the Night.

The next step is to create Nightspawns, false copies of myself that can fight indefinitely within this shadowscape of endless Night. Of course, I need more practice."

Alyssa frowned. "I never knew you could do such a thing." and suddenly she went silent.

Therion shrugged. Alyssa was a fool if she thought she could rely on her Master for everything. They were their masters last line of defense. If all else failed, they were the ones who had to protect him. Even if he was stronger than them, what kind of knight would they be if their Master constantly had to fight to keep himself alive?

"You might share his bed one day," Therion said, "but if you can't protect him. If you can't do your job, then you'll have no use." that had been the simple truth of the matter.

He ignored the sudden glare of the woman. If she couldn't see the truth, it wouldn't be he who suddenly vanished back into the Vale. He would prove himself. If not for his Master, then himself. Even if there were stronger forsaken, Therion was certain, with his talent, he would be of use to his Master.

He had found his focus—his dao—his path towards the peak. A path that would forever place him by his Master.

Pushing himself to his feet, Therion sucked in a deep breath and stared at the earth, shrouded by blood, before inscribing into the ground the Sigil of the Black Moon before he rounded on his heel, past Alyssa.

"For the Glory of the Black Moon"