The wind howled like a wounded beast as the crystal portal to the abyssal snapped shut behind us.
We tumbled, no.. we were flung through the mirror-light into a world that did not welcome us.
Very cold and dark.
Bitter, bone-splitting cold slammed against my cheeks as we crashed into the earth, our bodies rolling down a slope of black stone and dead moss. I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned with fog and my ribs throbbed like drums beneath my skin.
"Evangeline!" Freasia's voice cracked through the haze. I felt his hands fumbling against my shoulder, lifting me gently.
I blinked, but my vision stuttered. Darkness was everywhere, the abyssal was a twilight without end. A sky bruised with violet and ash, the ground was slick, jagged. My knees scraped raw against the ground, I touched my lips, it was bleeding.
"I'm here," I croaked, my throat still raw from screaming at my father back at the royal court. "I'm... here."
Freasia reached for me brushingmy hair away from my eyes. "You're bleeding."
"So are you."
He laughed breathlessly, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. His hand trembled as it cupped my face. "It's not the first time I've bled for you, my princess."
I tried to smile, but the weight of what had just happened hit me like a thunderclap. My father...no, the man who used to be my father had banished me. Banished us, he called me a traitor in front of the whole court. Called me a liar. And now Freasia might die in this freezing cold because of me.
Because I dared to tell the truth in the face of dark oppression.
A gust of wind howled through the jagged rocks. It carried the smell of rust, old magic, and ash. I clutched Freasia's arm and forced my legs to stand. Every part of my body hurt.
"Where are we?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away. Just stared out into the endless wasteland.
"The Abyssal"
His word echoed in my skull, cold and final. A prison built not of walls, but of ruin. Of lost things and forgotten souls. A place where misfits go to vanish.
"We need to move," he said at last. "Before whatever else lives here finds us first."
I nodded, and he slipped his arm around my waist. We limped forward through the fog barely seeing what was ahead of us.
The Abyssal was like walking inside a nightmare. Fog hung low and heavy, glowing faintly with an unnatural blue tint, thick enough to hide ones shapes, shifting things that whispered or clicked behind rocks. Trees twisted like iron bones, leaves long fallen. Shattered ruins of old towers jutted from the land like broken teeth.
Our boots crunched over gravel and dead vines. Every step echoed.
"Do you think... anyone survived here?" I whispered.
Freasia glanced at me. "That depends on what you mean by survived."
We walked in silence after that.
My thoughts swirled like stormwater. Jade, my sisters were all in danger. Morgana's smile, that flash of her true face which had scaled, mouth too wide, rows of needle teeth. And the king—no, Lord Guvian, my father his eyes glazed over, voice like ice. That wasn't my father, not anymore.
I felt tears prick the edges of my eyes.
"Don't cry now," Freasia said softly, as if reading my thoughts. "We'll find a way out. We always do."
"I'm tired," I murmured. My legs buckled, and I dropped to my knees.
Freasia was beside me in a blink, his arms wrapping around my shoulders, pulling me close.
He sat on the cold ground and let me lean into him, my head resting against his chest, where I could hear the strong, fast thrum of his heart. The heat of his body, so close, was the only thing keeping the cold from swallowing me whole.
"I'm sorry I dragged you into this," I said.
"Don't be," he whispered. "I chose you. I always will."
We must've sat there for hours, or minutes, I couldn't tell... Time didn't flow right in the Abyssal.
Then, from the edge of the fog, something shimmered.
A figure emerged from the air.
Freasia stood quickly, his hand going to the dagger at his side, pushing me protectively behind him.
"Ssshhhh... Dongt say a word"
I held unto his arms, my fingers digging into his flesh out of fear.
The figure did not approach like a man. It floated in the air, hovered on nothing at all, its robes swaying like ink in water. Thin and old, with skin like cracked bark and eyes of glowing molten gold. A beard of white moss fell to his waist. Dust, a lot of pixie dust spilled in slow sparkles from his fingertips.
He raised a withered hand and pointed at me.
"You," he rasped, his voice both ancient and sharp, like metal scraping bone. "The duskfire has come to burn the rot."
Freasia stepped forward, voice tight. "Who are you?"
The figure didn't answer him.
Only looked at me.
"Child of blossoms," he murmured, tilting his head like an owl. "Born of honey and crown. Lost and bound, yet still burning."
I stood shakily. "Who are you? What do you mean duskfire?"
"Duskfire is not a what. It is a when," he said cryptically. "And it has begun."
Freasia whispered, "I've heard of him. In the old scrolls… he's the Seer. Thumpan. The last dream-weaver. Banished centuries ago for prophesying the fall of the golden courts."
The old figure smiled slowly, eyes narrowing. "The fall always begins with love... and ends with truth."
I swallowed. "We don't have time for riddles. Morgana's going to kill my father. She's already taken my brother. The throne...."
"Ssshhhh.... The throne is already lost," Thumpan said. "The roots have rotted and you must burn them."
I shook my head, trembling. "I don't know how."
"You will."
Thumpan stepped forward, slow as death, and reached out a single glowing finger. He pressed it to my forehead. Heat shot through me—visions of shattered wings, fire, red skies, Jade screaming, my hands covered in gold and blood.....
I gasped, stumbling back.
Freasia caught me.
Thumpan's glow was fading.
"Find the wingless crown," he whispered. "And beware the one who offers light too easily."
He dissolved into mist.
Gone as quickly as he appeared.
Freasia and I stood in stunned silence.
I pressed a hand to my forehead. "What... did he put in me?"
"I don't know," Freasia said. "But your eyes... they're glowing."
I spun around. "We need to move. If he was right, Morgana won't wait long to finish what she started. We need allies, we need proof."
He nodded. "Then we find the wingless crown. Whatever that means."
I touched the crystal vine hidden in my sash, still intact. Still recording.
The proof we needed.
"We'll find a way back," I whispered. "And when we do... I'll burn the rot down to dust."
From the edge of the horizon, deep in the ruins of the Abyssal, a pulse of red light flickered, it was soft at first, then glowing brighter. As if something massive had stirred beneath the earth.
And it was waking up.