Throne Chamber of the Abyss — Morning Reports
The grand obsidian dining hall had shifted into its secondary form: the War Table of Shadows. The polished stone beneath the dining table had reshaped, rising with abyssal energy into a scrying map of the Empire's many worlds — flickering like ghost-flame under the command of the Emperor.
Emperor Vael Drakthar leaned back in his throne, arms folded loosely, gaze sharp. Shadows coiled behind him like silent serpents.
He spoke with cold command "Report."
Valessara Dray'Karth — Second Wife of Flame
Valessara rose from her seat, infernal beauty wrapped in layered crimson silk and flame-gold embroidery. Her horns glinted like molten obsidian.
"There has been a breach, my Emperor," she said, her voice calm but simmering with restrained fury. "The Dreadfire Vaults—breached during the third moon's eclipse."
Emperor Vael's eyes flicked to hers.
Valessara continued "Seventeen prisoners have escaped. Their power tiers range from Tier 1 to Tier 6. We found no traces of physical tampering. No alarms. No spatial distortion. It was as if they... ceased to exist within their cells and reappeared somewhere else."
"Was it internal betrayal?" the Emperor asked.
"Unlikely," Valessara replied. "We interrogated all surviving wardens. One took his own life mid-sentence. The others… remember nothing. A psychic fog hangs over the event."
Zareth, the silver-clad butler, stepped forward and placed a hexed obsidian shard on the table. A projected image of flickering cell chambers appeared — a momentary blur as the prisoners vanished into thin air.
"Mobilize the Flame Guard," Vael commanded. "Hunt them down. If their escape was orchestrated... I want the puppeteer."
Valessara bowed her head, lips curved in a smile. "As you command."
Nyrelle Umbrosyn — Third Wife of Shadow
From the darker end of the chamber, Nyrelle stepped forward — her form clothed in flowing black veils, skin pale like moonlight, horns barely visible beneath her shadow-woven hood. Her presence silenced even the flame of nearby candles.
"My Emperor," she whispered, voice barely above the echo of shadows. "While sifting through the deepest recesses of the Abyssal Archives, we uncovered a seal long forgotten — buried beneath layers of time and silence."
She raised her hand, conjuring a vision of an ancient, rusted black sword, etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the void.
"This sword has lain dormant for countless eons—sealed away by the Ancients to prevent its dark power from unraveling the cosmos."
Nyrelle's gaze darkened."But the seal has weakened... and now it stirs. The sword's awakening threatens to unleash dread and chaos beyond any known boundary."
She paused, voice low and grave."The archives warn that if this seal breaks fully, it will bring forth an era of despair — a shadow that will consume stars and silence light."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of her words sinking into the Emperor's mind.
Even the shadows seemed to still, as if listening.And in that pause, a child stirred…
Ashteron's
From his place at the table, young Ashteron watched all of this — his silver eyes wide, flickering with something deeper than fear.
He looked toward the black sword's image... and felt something. Not terror. Not awe.
But recognition.
Somewhere deep inside him, where his mother's celestial blood and his father's abyssal essence met — a name began to echo, a pull... toward that void-blade.
Emperor Vael's crimson eyes narrowed as he absorbed the gravity of the reports. The whispers of escaped prisoners, varying from mortal to formidable six-tiered threats, and the unsettling awakening of the black sword in the Abyssal Archives — the threads began to weave together in his mind.
He leaned forward, the obsidian throne creaking softly under his weight.
"The escapees," Vael began, voice low and commanding, "were they connected to this... black sword? Could the weakening of the seal have empowered them or provided a distraction?"
Elaenora glanced toward Nyrelle, then back to Vael, her expression tense.
"Unknown, my lord. But the timing is too precise to be mere coincidence."
Vael's gaze swept the assembled court.
"We cannot allow these threats to grow unchecked. Zareth," he called, "assemble the trackers — the most skilled hunters and shadow-walkers. I want the escapees found and brought back, dead or alive."
He paused, eyes sharpening like blades.
"And begin an investigation into the origins of the black sword's seal weakening. Find out who—or what—is behind it."
Turning his gaze to Nyrelle, he added, "You will lead the inquiry within the archives. Report directly to me."
A murmur passed through the room, but none dared question the Emperor's decree.
Vael's voice echoed once more, colder and resolute:
"The Abyss will not be undone by shadows or forgotten relics. We will extinguish this threat before it can spread."
Revised Passage Ending for the Dining Hall Scene:
As Emperor Vael gave his final command, the dining hall slowly emptied.
The wives moved with poise and purpose — Valessara storming off with her twin children in tow, Nyrelle vanishing into shadow like mist with her son, and Elaenora standing gracefully with her infant son in her arms.
At her side walked Lyseria, her eldest child — three years old, quiet and observant, her small black wings tucked neatly behind her. One hand clutched the edge of her mother's flowing silver robe, the other holding a dark-plumed doll shaped like a starling.
She said nothing.
But her golden eyes briefly flicked toward the vanishing image of the black sword… and lingered.
But Ash's gaze drifted.
His newborn eyes, barely able to focus, locked onto something.
Low on a shadowed column, half-lost to time, a symbol lay etched — jagged, formed of intersecting rings and sharp lines. It should have meant nothing to him.
And yet… it pulsed.
Not with light, but with pressure. A presence. Like something deep beneath the surface breathing… watching.
His tiny hand twitched toward it, instinctive and uncertain.
The symbol faintly responded.
Elaenora paused as she felt his small body shudder slightly in her arms. She followed his gaze, but the corridor held nothing unusual to her eyes. Just stone, shadow, silence.
"It's nothing, little star," she whispered, brushing a silvery strand of hair from his face. "Only dreams chasing light."
She continued walking, unaware that the symbol had quietly dimmed behind them, as if retreating into slumber once more.
But it had felt him.
And far below, in the deepest black… something exhaled.
The Abyss would not be undone.But in the silence beneath its throne, the old dark began to listen.