When Mason dove into the chasm, the world evaporated.There was no ground underfoot, no sky overhead — only an endless, swirling void expanding in every direction. The air was thick, hot, stinging him with heavy hands like his skin was alive, flaying him with their invisible claws.Tropical wasn’t the proper word to call it. This place was an absence itself — the absence of light, of sound, of time.Mason’s breath was ragged. His body was light but so heavy too. Every motion came slow as if he were wading into something heavy and viscous.And then, the whispers began.They weren’t voices. Not exactly.They were fragments — broken thoughts, broken memories, echoes of things that had never been said. They coiled through his mind, winding around his thoughts like smoke.You did this.You broke the cycle.You freed it.Mason clenched his jaw. “Shut up.”The voices did not obey.They grew louder. More insistent.You are no savior. You are no hero. You are a mistake.Mason pushed himself fo

Scarlett’s scream ripped through the battlefield like a battle cry, rattling the ground under Mason’s feet. The golden-black energy enveloping her erupted violently, cracking and flickering as it tore between two forces—her own will and the abyss that sought to drag her into its depths.It was the first time the entity sounded angry.“You rage against the inevitable,” it hissed, its voice sinking into the air, overlapping with Scarlett’s own. “You consider yourself powerful, yet you are just a remnant of what used to be. You cannot win.”Scarlett clenched her teeth and curled her fingers into shaking fists. The shadows raked at her body, the tugging, twisting, trying to drag her back. But she held her ground, her body clenched in defiance.Another step forward, Mason completely ignored the scorching pain growing in his chest.“She’s more resilient than you think,” he said. “Stronger than you.”The maw chuckled darkly and slowly. “Is she?”The shadows writhed in violence — and then the

Mason’s breath caught in his throat as Scarlett made contact with the dirt. For the span of a moment, he immobilized. His chest crushed against his ribs, his body arrested by panic.Then his impulsiveness kicked in, and he was on his knees next to her if only he hadn’t been in his heart lurching for salvation.There was one word on his tongue, one name he dared to call her. “Scarlett.” His timbre was pointed to the point of these words.No response. It only made Mason’s grasp clench harder into her shoulders. “Scarlett, wake up,” he repeated, each word fastened by stress. She was a pale girl. Too pale.The golden flash dwelling back into her irises slowly lightened again, nearly failing with each second, just as the extinguished candle’s light served as the final resolution in her fight, but it was not. It was like she was still trucked up against something; just not utterly entrenched in the Abyss.Mason’s stomach contorted. Not after all this. Not while she had struggled herself ove

Mason hardly had time to register the cold ground under him before Scarlett took a deep, ragged breath. She flailed in his arms, whole body convulsing as her fingers clawed his shirt, desperate to ground herself to reality.He held her tight. "Scarlett—"Her breath quickened in fits and starts, her rib cage expanding and contracting in staccato pants. Her eyes — no longer lost in shadow — careened around, as if to find herself still caught in the void.“Mason…” Her voice was raw, hardly louder than a whisper. “Where—?”“You’re here. You’re back.” His arms closed tightly around her, as if afraid she might disappear again. "You're safe."But was she?Because even while saying it, even staring into her familiar gaze, he could still sense it—thrumming just beneath her skin remnants of something foreign.Scarlett quivered, her nails embedding into his arms. “I could hear them,” she whispered. "I could feel them. They were inside me, Mason. They — ” She shivered violently. "They didn’t want

Gold and violet colours bled across the sky of the new world in unnatural patterns, like a warped canvas. Mason stood at the precipice of the grand city he had built from the ashes, his gaze sweeping the skyline, seeking. He felt the weight of creation heavy on his shoulders and the burden of creation beginning to gnaw at him; his power was absolute but that power came at a price that he was starting to feel.Scarlett hovered by his side, arms folded, keen eyes. “Something’s wrong.”Mason exhaled slowly. “You feel it too?”She nodded. “The air is... off. Like something is changing under the skin. I don’t believe the Ascended are done with us.”Mason’s jaw tightened. He had broken the cycle of the old world, rewritten the laws of existence, and yet already some unseen force turned against him.A flickering shadow appeared at the edge of his vision. The Watcher.Mason didn’t turn. “You’re awfully quiet.”The Watcher, wrapped in its eternal mantle of variable shadow and light, advanced.