Shadow of the Abyss

It was noon when the ashen-haired boy opened his blood-red eyes, drifting about as he lay in a refinement tank. On his bare shoulder, the emblem of the crimson spear shimmered a dimly lit glow.

He smiled, glancing over at Syris in the chamber next to his, fully nude. And fully woman.

"Calm, Poised, and Patient," the young master muttered. His eyes broke away as he pulled himself out of the tank, allowing the strange odorless fluid to fall from his broad shoulders and hair. He managed a mirthless smile, his fingers finding the brand on his shoulder that sought to brand him a slave.

'Roxas, Azura, and now Cain.' he said, the words carrying with them a fury so deep, he felt his Three Circle heat up.

Nine Years, he walked the Lake of Rot. For nine years, he ate of the foulest creatures, felt their smiley flesh against his tongue, drunk of their rotting blood, festering pestilence without reaction.

And now he was free.

The Young Master looked up, peering into some unfathomable domain with a smile so sharp, so cold it felt demonic.

"Ava… Contact my Father."

Through his Neurolink, the Ashen King's translucent image appeared. His expression was hard, and his eyes blazing a similar flame to his child.

"Son."

"Father."

Arsene Snow closed his eyes, releasing such a sigh of relief he nearly smiled.

"I need your help. I need information?"

"How bad… "the monarch stopped, watching tears slide down his son's face. " What is it you need, son?" Stay updated with мѵʟ

"information on the First Family. Everything you have on Cain and Azura. I don't care about the price, ill—"

"No one fuck's with a Snow. You'll have the information in a week." Arsene remarked in a voice of coal, cutting the connection.

"Calm, Poised, and Patient," he muttered, clenching his eyes shut. "Calm, Poised, and… Patient"

***

It was around midnight when she found him in his bed chamber resting over the terrace, staring up at the twelve moons with a bottle of wine. There were more suns and moons than he remembered, illuminating the clusters of stardust through the endless skies.

It was a stunning sight bathing his chambers that still carried the lingering scent of his wife. The scent alone brought a smile to his face and a deafening sense of calm he'd not had in nine whole years.

"Not now," Altair suddenly voiced, his domain spotting Vaiga at the threshold. "Give me a few hours. We can talk at dawn."

Vaiga withdrew. Threatened by that unseamed force within his voice. It terrified her, lashing out at the deepest pits of her being.

She stopped halfway down the hall to her bed chamber, stunned by how easily she obeyed his will. She glanced back, her cheeks flaring.

"I'll let this slide just this once. Since you just returned."

Lost within the memories, Altair lifted the bottle to his lips, savoring complex nodes budding around the tongue. He watched on as the moons dripped beneath the horizon, fading with the rise of the sun, enjoying th breath of summer's kiss across his cheeks.

Whatever manner of unease or nightmare that haunted his psyche had faded at the arisen sun, drowned beneath his newfound sense of purpose. He donned the Mask of the False Smile. It was a mask he'd been taught since he was in diapers and honed through the passage of the Lake of Rot.

It didn't matter what he felt, what he wanted to feel; Altair presented a regal smile to those who held the honor to grace his presence.

"It will seem you two had it rough," he said to Vaiga and Hilda in the dining hall. "There was a small accident during the final hour."

"But you earned an S-Rank skill, right? I'm sure it was worth it," Hilda remarked, brooding over her blade of lamb Kebabs, Eggs, and Rice.

"Sweet Heavenly Father, bless you! Bless you!" Syris wept, stuffing her face without the slightest hint of shame.

"I assure you… it was not. But let's not talk about that. I'm sure you all wish to leave."

"You bet your ass I do," Hilda remarked. "I'm sure everyone thinks we're dead or missing."

Altair chuckled, "I'm sure. Well, I can return you all to earth after breakfast."

"That's it?" Vaiga voiced. "That's all you have to say?"

"Hmmm. My sword. I'd like it back," Altair said, cutting into his kabab and lifting it to his lips. He opened an eye to Vaiga. "It was a gift from my Mother and Father. I've fulfilled my time in the military.

It's time for what was mine to be returned."

"There might be an issue then," Hilda joined. "I'd have given you the sword without issue, but—"

"Hilda. Vaiga. I wasn't asking. You will deliver me, Endmyian, or I will burn Earth to the ground." The prince declared, startling the duo.

Neither Hilda nor Vaiga looked pleased.

"Are you serious?" Vaiga asked. "You are but a Third Circle."

"But he has my backing," Syris remarked. "Altair is a bonafide citizen of Earth. Recognized by Genisis. My group would be more than willing to give him an army. So long as he does us a few favors, of course."

"You son of a bitch!" Said Hilda darkly. "Altair, you can't be serious? You'd really—"

"I want my sword. Save yourself a lot of heartache and deliver me what is rightfully mine, or face the consequences." He snapped, conjuring a Rift. "You have by the end of the day. I truly hope you make the right decision. I'd hate to wipe out Earth and start anew. You may leave."

Hilda had to turn to Vaiga to confirm what she had heard. She had never known Altair to be anything but intelligent, but such a rash claim left her speechless. If not annoyed.

"Oh… If you don't know me, please contact the Aros Family. I'm sure they'll explain who I am,' Syris mentioned. "I'm an offworlder from Genisis. My group controls your planets of clones, bloodlines, and so on. We are the Genetic Clone Association, GCA for short."

Altair opened his palm, calling forth a face none ever imagined they'd see again. He emerged from his shadow, rising like a dreadful apparition.

"Cedric…" Hilda and Vaiga shouted, assured of his death.

"Master," said Cedric.

"The woman that ordered me dead. Kill her. Use all your family's power if you must. I want her head on a pike. And her soul. You've two weeks."

Cedric bowed, blurring into an iridescent ribbon through the Rift.

"Syris," Altair continued. "Do you want to inform the GCA that you're alive?"

"I guess I should…" said Syris hesitantly, "Though, I'd like to wait a few days if that's alright with you. My mental state isn't really the best… as you can see."

"Would it be wrong to compare you to a Colossal Hippo based on how you eat?"

"Would it be wrong if I broke my foot off in your ass?"

"Message received," he said with a toothish fang, not pushing the matter. Despite the mask, the experience of the Lake of Rot still felt raw. "Take your time. Though I'm sure they'll visit my domain soon the longer, I keep this Rift active."

Syris sighed, lowering her fork; she glanced at Vaiga and Hilda, shaking her head. "I'll speak to them in a few days. A week's tops. If they come… just… delay for me."

Realizing something, Vaiga hurriedly asked, "Altair, what happened these past few years?"

And for the first time, the Prince lost his smile. He stood up, losing his appetite. "Worry about my sword, Vaiga," he said, vanishing into a wisp of light nodes. He appeared in the Throne Room of the Palace of Stygian.

Torches of Eternal Darkness illuminated the hall, revealing the iridescent throne, blacker than night, purer than the heavens themselves. It blazed much like the fire of the Sacred Flame. The Throne of Stygian, called, pulsing with a dreadful weight.

It had been nearly ten years since he last saw this 'thing' that nearly stole his soul; filling him with such a sense of awe, he backed away the first time his eyes ever graced it.

He had never felt more shame then, for he knew he had not been ready to sit upon the Throne of Stygian.

As he approached, Altair's shadow grew elongated, splintering off, as his Pale Knights, one by one, began to emerge, falling to a knee as their Prince anointed himself king upon his Throne.

Black flames seething from the throne coiled around the prince's arms and legs, granting him the appearance of a Hell Fiend. Yet as time passed, the flames lessened, revealing his sharp features that matured these nine years. The delicate touch of youth and innocence had died, leaving behind a cold blade of a man.

"We greet you, my Lord," said his Pale Knights.

Altair managed a smile that came from his depths. He lifted a palm, gesturing for them to rise.

They obeyed.

"Aurora, now that we have returned to Earth and I've finally regained access to the Origin System. I need resources, and I need people. Slaves, freemen, offworlders, whatever you decide, we need. The number of Sols should not matter. Ava should be able to help."

"Yes, My Lord," Said Aurora formally.

"Jorm.

'My Lord"

"Five years have passed in this realm. The infants and children that we took in are now capable of killing. Train them. Well."

"Nia… You will create a spearmanship for my Military. Your eyes can see things I cannot. I look forward to the results. Especially since you share my comprehension to a lesser degree."

Nia bowed. "As you command, my Lord."

"Alyssa, head to Themyscira and inform Athena of my return. Tell her I have a proposal. One I'm sure she's interested in. Get back to me in a week."

"Confirmed!"

"Talia, you will accompany me as my new Sword Maid. Kirr, I want you to run the Palace of Stygian. We have a lot of staff now, though I am hesitant to appoint you with your silly personality."

"My Lord," Kirr said with a poised demeanor. "You can count on me."

"I sure hope so… Dismiss."