Chapter 12
Far from the cracked lands and broken runes of the obelisk, across seething storms and dead skies, stood a citadel not marked on any map. It jutted from the side of a colossal mountain like a black thorn, its spires twisted, as though resisting gravity. The *Citadel of Hollow Eyes*.
Within its cold halls, cloaked in layers of whispers and spell-wards, a chamber pulsed with eerie resonance. Candles burned with violet flame, casting strange shadows that danced of their own will.
At the heart of the room stood *a man cloaked in obsidian silk*. Tall, regal, and unnervingly calm. His eyes glowed faintly — not with light, but with reflection — as though they mirrored things unseen. In one hand, he held a crystal shard, pulsing with residual energy from the broken obelisk.
The moment it flared, he smiled.
*"The vessel awakens."*
Behind him, several figures in masked robes stepped forward from the corners of the chamber — the *Voidthrall*, his inner circle.
A masked one asked, "Is it him?"
The man nodded. "Draziel Vale. Reborn. The seal fractured the moment he made contact."
"What of the others?"
"They won't understand what he carries. Not yet."
He turned, moving toward a scrying pool in the center. It shimmered, revealing glimpses: Draziel gasping in Rynn's arms. The void mark on his hand. Sylas watching with narrowed eyes.
"They believe this power is a weapon," the man said. "But the Void… is a hunger. A will. And now it breathes again."
Another Voidthrall spoke up. "Shall we intervene?"
The man's smile faded. "No. Not yet. Let him *taste* the power first. Let him think it serves him."
He reached out, dipping his hand into the pool. The image flickered, distorted… then shifted to a memory — *Kairos*, bloodied, betrayed, dying.
"Yes," he whispered. "Let that rage sharpen. Let him believe vengeance is his path. When he's ready…"
The pool darkened to pitch.
"…he'll open the final gate for us."
---
Smoke still curled in the air, drifting lazily from the shattered remnants of the obelisk. The ground around it bore deep scorches, and the once-hidden sigils had burned into the stone itself. A stillness had fallen — not peace, but the quiet that follows something ancient remembering its name.
Draziel stood at the center, his breathing uneven. His body trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the sensation of *becoming*. The black mark on his palm pulsed like a second heartbeat. Strange glyphs had begun to snake up his forearm — faint, silver-violet lines that shifted under his skin, unreadable and alien.
Sylas approached cautiously, blades still drawn, eyes wide. "What... the hell was that?"
Draziel looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly. "Something… woke up inside me."
Rynn, still winded but steady, moved beside him. "That mark—it's changed. I felt the shift. Like the Veil itself *flinched*."
Draziel didn't answer immediately. He was listening—*to something only he could hear*. A faint whisper just at the edge of perception. Not words, but… *intent*. A promise of power, and a warning of cost.
"Void," he finally said, voice hoarse. "It's not just a domain. It's a presence."
Sylas narrowed his eyes. "You're saying… it's alive?"
"It's aware," Draziel replied. "And I think… it chose me."
As the three stared at the shattered obelisk, the air grew colder.
Rynn exhaled. "This changes everything."
Draziel looked up toward the distant horizon, where the sky bled dusk into night. His enemies were out there — the ones who had taken everything. And now… now he was something new.
"Let them come," he muttered.
"They don't know what they've started."
—
As they moved through the narrow cavern paths beyond the broken obelisk chamber, the silence pressed heavier than before. Every sound seemed dulled — their footsteps muffled, the flicker of Sylas' conjured flame strangely dim.
Draziel's eyes narrowed. Something was *off*.
Then came the whisper.
Not in his ears — in his *mind*.
A cold murmur, like the echo of a thought that wasn't his. It didn't speak in words, not exactly, but it *felt* like a question. A test. A beckoning.
*Will you reach? Will you *grasp*?*
Draziel stumbled slightly, catching himself against the cavern wall.
"You good?" Sylas asked, glancing back.
"Are you sure you're okay, Draziel?" Ryann asked concerned.
Before he could answer, the cavern *twitched*. Shadows bent unnaturally — not just shifting, but *pulling*, converging toward Draziel's feet.
From the cracks in the stone, a void-like substance began to spread. Not smoke. Not shadow. It was deeper — the *absence* of presence.
Sylas took a step back. "Draziel…?"
He looked down at his hands. His fingers were wreathed in swirling threads of the same darkness — gentle, coiling, curious. The runes that had etched themselves into his arm earlier now pulsed faintly with violet light.
Suddenly, a screech tore through the cave — a malformed, serpentine creature lunged from the dark. Too fast for Sylas or Ryann to react.
But not Draziel.
*The shadows answered.*
In a blink, tendrils of void surged from the ground and *grasped* the beast mid-air. Not merely binding — *draining*. The creature shrieked once more, then collapsed into a husk, like its very essence had been siphoned away.
The void retreated as quickly as it came.
Sylas stood frozen. "...What the hell was that?"
Draziel's voice was quiet. Distant.
"I didn't *call* it. It just… reacted."
He stared at the place where the creature had died. A part of him felt power surge — raw, ancient, terrifyingly precise. But another part?
Another part felt *hollowed*.
*The Void gives. But it also takes.*
---
Later that night, they made camp beneath a fractured stone arch, with only the faintest sliver of moonlight piercing through the clouded sky. Sylas dozed off first — his wounds still mending, soon after Ryann followed— while Draziel sat upright, staring at the back of his hand.
The runes were still there, faintly glowing. But now… they were spreading.
Like cracks forming along glass, thin lines etched across his skin, pulsing with a voidlight hue. He clenched his fist. *This wasn't part of his Dominion before.*
He tried to breathe slow.
Tried to will it down.
But the Void wasn't listening anymore.
The ground beneath him darkened.
Not with shadow.
With *absence*.
His vision flickered. The trees warped. The fire dimmed into a single ember. His surroundings blurred as if sinking underwater. Voices, distant and warped, echoed from no clear direction.
— *You opened the gate.*
— *Now we pour through it.*
"Stop," Draziel muttered, placing both hands on the earth. "I didn't summon you."
But the air split with a quiet, brittle *crack*.
The crack woke Sylas and Ryann from their slumber
Sylas stirred. "Draziel…?" He blinked at the warped landscape around them. "What's happening—?"
"What's that?" Ryann asked surprise
*CRACK.*
A large fissure spread from where Draziel sat, and from it bled tendrils of voidstuff, writhing like veins in reverse. The trees around them began to wither. Time itself slowed — insects hung still in the air like dying sparks.
And then Draziel *screamed*.
It wasn't pain.
It was *invasion*.
The Void wasn't just reacting now.
It was *testing him*.
Flooding into the corners of his mind, whispering in a thousand fragmented voices. Showing him visions — of endless stars collapsing, of himself becoming something *else*.
Something beyond mortal.
Sylas grabbed him, shouting. "You have to close it! Whatever this is — *control it!*"
Draziel's breath hitched. He slammed both palms to the earth, *willing* the surge down.
"I am not your vessel," he growled through his teeth. "Not unless I choose to be."
Silence.
Then — slowly — the tendrils began to retract. The light returned. Time snapped back. The world *breathed* again.
Sylas exhaled shakily. "Void Domain, huh?"
Draziel didn't answer.
He was staring at his reflection in a pool of water.
His eyes were no longer just silver.
They shimmered with a faint ring of *endless black*.
---