The road to the Abyss began where light itself dared not follow.
For three days and nights, Ella, Maeve, and Lyra traveled beyond the safety of the kingdom—past the forests that whispered her name, past the rivers that shimmered with ancient spells. The world grew darker with each mile. Trees turned black and twisted, and the sky hung heavy with gray clouds that never broke.
The air was cold here, thick with the taste of ash. Even the Heartstone's light seemed weaker, as though something unseen was feeding on its glow.
Maeve rode beside Ella, her expression grim. "We're close now," she said. "The Abyss lies beyond the mountains of Moura. It's not a place of death… but of what remains after."
Lyra, who had grown quieter since they left the castle, looked up nervously. "Why would anyone ever go there?"
Maeve glanced at her. "Because sometimes, answers hide where hope refuses to go."
Ella held the Heartstone in her palm. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Each time it glowed, she felt something—whispers in the wind, faint voices she couldn't quite make out.
That night, they set up camp in a valley beneath the mountains. The moon was little more than a sliver of light above them. Maeve built a small fire and began mixing herbs into a steaming pot, the scent sharp and earthy.
Lyra sat beside Ella, wrapping her cloak tightly around her shoulders. "Do you really think your mother is still alive?" she asked softly.
Ella hesitated. "I don't know. But I have to believe she is. If she faced Malakar before, maybe she found a way to survive."
Lyra poked at the fire. "I just don't want you to get hurt."
"I know," Ella said, smiling faintly. "But this is something I have to do."
Maeve joined them, handing each a cup of her strange tea. "Drink. It will keep your mind clear. The Abyss preys on confusion. It will turn your fears into paths—and your doubts into doors."
Ella sipped the tea, and warmth spread through her chest. But even as she tried to relax, the wind began to howl across the valley, carrying faint whispers that made her skin crawl.
Lyra looked up. "Did you hear that?"
Maeve stood, her staff glowing faintly. "It's begun. The Abyss is calling."
The ground beneath them trembled. From the shadows between the rocks, dark mist began to seep upward, curling like smoke. Ella stood quickly, clutching the Heartstone.
Then she heard it—her name, whispered softly.
"Ella…"
She turned toward the sound, her pulse quickening. The mist gathered into a faint shape—a woman's silhouette. Her voice was soft, trembling, and heartbreakingly familiar.
"Ella, my child…"
Ella's breath caught in her throat. "Mother?"
Maeve grabbed her arm. "Don't move!"
But the voice grew clearer. "Ella, I'm waiting for you… Come to me…"
Tears burned in Ella's eyes. "She's here. Maeve, she's here!"
Maeve raised her staff, and the mist hissed as light struck it. "That's not her. That's the Abyss speaking through your heart. It knows your weakness."
The shadow-woman turned toward Maeve, its face melting into something dark and hollow. "You kept her from me once, witch," it hissed. "You won't again."
Maeve struck the ground with her staff, sending a shockwave of light across the camp. The mist screamed and scattered, leaving behind only silence.
Lyra was trembling. "That wasn't her?"
Ella shook her head slowly, her voice breaking. "It sounded like her…"
Maeve placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's how it works. The Abyss takes what you love and twists it. Remember that when we enter. If you follow every whisper, you'll lose yourself before you ever reach the truth."
Ella nodded, swallowing hard. "Then I'll listen only to my heart."
By morning, they began their climb into the mountains. The path was narrow, carved into cliffs that overlooked endless fog. Strange shapes moved within that mist—sometimes human, sometimes not.
Lyra held onto Ella's arm as they walked. "Why does it feel like the world's… watching us?"
Maeve didn't look back. "Because it is. The Abyss was once alive, long before men built kingdoms. It remembers everything."
Hours passed, and the climb grew steeper. At last, they reached a high ridge that opened onto a vast chasm. The wind howled through it like the cries of lost souls.
Below, the Abyss stretched endlessly, a pit of swirling darkness that glowed faintly with blue light. It looked alive, breathing slowly—hungry.
Maeve stopped at the edge. "There it is."
Lyra's voice trembled. "How do we get down there?"
Maeve tapped her staff, and a bridge of light appeared, arching across the void. "Carefully."
They crossed one at a time, the bridge pulsing faintly beneath their feet. Ella walked last, her hand gripping the Heartstone. As she stepped into the center, she heard that voice again—her mother's, soft and desperate.
"Ella, please… I'm here…"
Her steps faltered. The bridge flickered.
Maeve turned sharply. "Don't stop!"
"I hear her!" Ella cried. "She's calling to me!"
"Then let her wait," Maeve snapped. "You can't save her if you fall!"
Ella forced herself forward, each step heavier than the last. When she finally reached the other side, the bridge vanished behind her.
Maeve took a deep breath. "Once we enter the Abyss, there's no turning back. Every path inside is alive. It changes shape to test you."
Ella nodded. "Then we'll test it too."
They descended into the chasm, following a spiral path that wound downward for what felt like hours. The air grew colder, and faint blue lights glowed along the walls—ghostly symbols that shifted when she looked at them.
At last, the tunnel opened into a wide cavern. A river of black water flowed through the center, reflecting no light. On the far shore stood an ancient gate made of stone and bone, covered in strange runes that pulsed faintly.
Maeve stopped. "This is the Door of Echoes. Beyond it lies the true Abyss—the realm of shadows. Malakar will be waiting."
Ella touched the Heartstone. "Then let's open it."
Maeve shook her head. "The door doesn't open with power. It opens with truth. It shows you the memory you fear most."
Before Ella could ask what she meant, the runes flared to life. The gate groaned open, and a rush of cold wind hit them like a wave.
They stepped through—and suddenly, everything changed.
Ella was no longer in the cavern. She was standing in her village again—the smell of bread and pinewood thick in the air. Children laughed in the distance. Her mother stood by the well, smiling softly.
"Ella," she said gently. "Come home."
Ella's heart ached. "Mother…"
She ran forward—but as she reached out, her mother's face began to melt away, turning gray and hollow. The village around her burned. The laughter turned to screams.
"Do you see?" a voice whispered behind her. "All that light brings… is loss."
Ella spun around. Malakar stood in the middle of the flames, his silver eyes glowing like twin stars.
"You opened the door," he said softly. "Now face what's inside you."
The fire roared higher, and for a moment, Ella saw her mother's shadow reaching for her through the flames.
"Ella…"
Tears filled her eyes, but this time, she didn't run. She stood tall, clutching the Heartstone. "You can't fool me anymore. You're not real. None of this is."
Malakar smiled faintly. "Then prove it."
The ground cracked open beneath her feet, and everything vanished.
Ella gasped, falling into darkness. For a heartbeat, there was nothing—no light, no air, no sound.
Then, slowly, the Heartstone began to glow again, and she saw Maeve and Lyra kneeling beside her. They were alive. The gate was gone. And before them stretched the true Abyss—an endless sea of shifting black mist, with a faint light pulsing in the distance.
Maeve's voice was quiet. "You faced the first test. The Abyss has accepted your courage."
Ella stood, breathing hard. "Then it's time to find him."
Lyra looked out at the swirling darkness. "And what if he finds us first?"
Ella's hand tightened around the Heartstone. "Then he'll regret it."
The wind howled across the Abyss, carrying whispers that sounded almost like laughter. The real battle was only just beginning.