《The Abyss》


 Prologue: The Man of Chassa

    ¡°Beware... Harbinger of Death, for It has awoken.¡± A short, unruly phrase in such a time of peace and prosperity. In these times, people are not looking towards the end of any world, but the bright future they hope and work for. Oh, how many have thought this one close to being doomed nearly fifteen years ago now, though that time has long passed. Now, all they worry about is what can come of the next day. No one thinks about the past anymore... no one in Bea, at least.


    ¡°Beware the Harbinger of Death?¡± a smooth-faced man of his twenty-eighth year ponders to himself. A pale, flesh-garnished hand presses its fingers over the dull inscription on the horrid book. ¡°A typo from lost times?¡± His voice fills the small archive backroom, being the only one to fill it. Shelves, decrepit from years of neglect, tower over the white-haired mess as if peeking over his shoulder, egging him on to explain. Speak, oh rare visitor. Tell us thy stories.


    At last, he obliges, ¡°Could very well be from the Ancient One¡¯s time. Looks old enough, and the gold trim tells me it was likely written by Its unholy scribes. Ah, to have lived alongside the Ancient One in such a time before this... how incredibly much I would sacrif-¡±


    Bang bang bang! ¡°Mister Foxwell, we believe you have a visitor!¡± The old caretaker- always so kind to any who stepped foot in her halls. Misplace or ruin one of her books, though, and your hands were as good as gone. No kidding- she¡¯s a witch.


    Visitor? In the Archives? The ¡°Foxwell¡± stood, tucking the book away for later. The caretaker bothered not for this room¡¯s belongings anyways; the peeling wallpaper shook her bones like a hex. ¡°On my way!¡± he called back, hoping the journey out of this miniature maze would be as easy as the dive in. A few steps over the stacked books and oversized scrolls took him from the uncharted back into the surface world out that door forgotten by most.


    ¡°Shut it quick, boy-¡± the hunched woman spat as he left the room. That room is the only thing in any world that makes her so hasty or the slightest bit rude. As soon as the latch is clamped shut and the lock is placed back upon the door, her typical wrinkled smile reappears. ¡°In the foyer, boy. They asked for you by name.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he gives as a short reply. By name? The thought rings in his mind as alarmed as if he had just heard the click of a firearm cocking, though he shows none of this on his face. To all others, the piercing stare from those emerald jewels show determination alone. The ever-present scowl shows apathy, as if he cares not for those or any others around him. His stride and tall stance, ranging slightly higher than the average human male, shows confidence in all endeavors. The coat, flowing from his neck to just above the bottom of his tightly-tied boots, hide what may be beneath. However, the open front shows a professional and tidy shirt embraced by a vest accented with a scarlet hue. All in all, he is a man of great importance, while largely unbeknownst to the worlds.


    ¡°Ah, Mister Foxwell,¡± a suit greets as the book-mongerer steps out into the main entrance to the archives. ¡°It is a great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.¡±


    That man doesn¡¯t look right, Foxwell thinks, yet he simply provides the same scowl as his resting face allows. ¡°Evening. I hope you intend to make this quick- I have a meeting with the Duchess in no longer than a few hours¡¯ time.¡± His eyes glance once over the caretaker, already stepping away with a knowing smile on her face. ¡°Liar,¡± she¡¯d think of me.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Yes- no, of course!¡± The sales pitch-like voice gives no hope for closure any time soon, and so the man continues, ¡°It would be best we speak in a more conducive environment, however. Will you join me in the parlor?¡±


    There¡¯s a parlor here? The thoughts trot across his mind as if on an unending record. Before replying, his arms crossed over each other at his chest, both keeping his distance and to ensure the tome stays hidden. Beware, the Harbinger of Death... Despite his distrust, Foxwell follows behind the suit. Honestly, there would be no need for any feelings of danger in the archives- guards of stone and metal melded together with magic keep sight over the citizens. In fact, they watch over every place in the entire, multi-sectioned city. Greatest place to live in all worlds, by far... fear keeps people in check.


    Once in the dim-lit room checkered with lavish furniture and candles, the suit speaks first after placing himself down. He doesn¡¯t seem comfortable being here. Is he from around these parts? ¡°Mister-¡±


    ¡°Cut it,¡± Foxwell interrupts. A pause deafens the two, then he gets immediately to the chase. ¡°You¡¯re from the Council, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Another pause, then the suit gives a sneaking smile. The smile turns into a chuckle, then mutilates itself as the man¡¯s skin deforms itself. The flesh unknits itself, then reforms into something darker. Not the Council, no- below the Council, where fear is produced. Once pale, the face is now tightened with a gray hue. The thing¡¯s eyes are fully glazed and whitened, giving no discernable direction it may be looking in. Its size has nearly doubled, hunching over so as not to bump against the ceiling. It would matter not, however, as the whole thing appears to just fill whatever space it must much like any liquid would. While truly horrifying, this thing doesn¡¯t have much of an effect on the one who had called it out. ¡°Is this your preference?¡± the thing says, its voice like if something is strangling its neck.


    ¡°I would prefer announced visits.¡± The sny response comes justified, seeing as today is one of great importance to the man. However, the Council, of course, knows this much already.


    ¡°Her Grace shall wait; you¡¯re needed elsewhere today, Hayalci.¡±


    Ah, ¡°Foxwell¡± thinks to himself, so they are again unafraid to risk letting my identity slip out among those who know me in such a city. Thankfully, this agent decided to speak it behind closed doors. Best we not have a repeat of Lowen. ¡°Very well, then. Suppose I have no choice. Where are my services required?¡±


    ¡°That is not my information to share. Return from the door we arrived in and find your question answered promptly.¡± As the being shifts back into its much more presentable state, it adds, ¡°A pleasure as always, Head Reaver.¡±


    ¡°Likewise, sire.¡± A quick rise from this Hayalci and he is already nearing the door. His hand finds the knob, it receiving difficulty just turning the simple mechanism. My plans ruined once more. Aethea is going to kill me this time, for sure. Nevertheless, he pushes through, throwing away what he had in mind on what was supposed to be a relaxing day filled with tea, cookies, and light unworldly investigations. The door is the same, though what lies beyond it is quite different. Chassa... home.

 Woman of Chassa

    This new world Hayalci finds himself in is expansive, yes, but at the same time quite restrictive. The starry, obsidian sky gleams in an eternal night under a dim, blue sun. Soul-sundered, winged beasts deliver letters across the sky, only seen as black silhouettes sharing positions both in the air and on the ground, only the latter being where the birds would affect the physical domain of this place. In terms of the ground, wide varieties of sentient creatures walk the unearthly-paved roads. Heels tok against what one would assume is glass that covers such walking areas, the material gleaming under the azure light. Faces pass by Hayalci, few, if any at all, giving the slightest glance at him. He sees anything from Elite Elves, whose multicolored eyes dot from one pedestrian to another, to meek, beastial residents who simply keep their sight low and uninvasive.


    Such is the concept of Chassa... ¡°All Beings, Together Thriving,¡± a typical leader would say of the place. More like all beings changing each world as one. A well-traveled man as Hayalci would understand this world is much unlike the others around and within it. What happens in the mortal plane of Bea is wildly influenced by inner workings within the upper Ascentia and the lower Descentia. What happens within those worlds is wildly influenced by the close-held inner workings of Chassan inhabitants. One woman can say a single word in Chassa that erupts a war in Bea. Crazy, crazy lives we live.


    ¡°Caspian, dear friend!¡± A familiar voice approaches from the side, catching the man¡¯s attention. His glance is enough to acknowledge a set of regal robes attached to a female Aether Elf, one of the snow-skinned, blue-eyed beings of Chassa. ¡°You look so gloomy. Sorry to be back so soon?¡±


    Without a smile to greet her with, Caspian lifts his eyes enough to remain decent, albeit holding no devious purposes beforehand either, but not enough to meet her gaze. ¡°Alain... I had hoped for more time to recover before returning.¡± He shifts, showing the slightest limp as he faces her, him having to lift his head slightly farther up to compensate for her natural towering height of nearly seven feet to his six and change.


    Her bleached skin shows no deviation, much like her eyes that remain plastered on his. ¡°Ah, still in recovery? By the Council¡¯s grace, has it not been nearly a few months now since that UnGod tried killing you for being contracted to correct it?¡±


    ¡°It was the first reaving of a deity in the last few decades; there was bound to be an overlooked trap or unexpected strike. Now, who am I to report to in the Council? I dearly wish to return to Bea soon.¡± Caspian¡¯s stance straightens quick before short, yet efficient steps start his way for a central building in this world, one such building with sleek, curved surfaces holding more secrets than those of Bea could even begin to imagine. Hayalci has been there many times and has even been one among the Council members before. That is in the past, however, before he began this new calling of his.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The Elf does not yet follow, but childishly teases with a smirk, ¡°The omniscient Hunter expects all, or so say the kids.¡± A few brief steps after him begin before she continues. ¡°Actually, you are speaking to whom you must report to.¡±


    ¡°Huh-? Among the Council now, Alain?¡± His words indicate confusion, but his voice denies as much. Caspian¡¯s eyes keep their sharp, dark gaze forward as his head tilts just enough to speak backwards to her.


    ¡°Not... yet, no. However, Master Romell has become increasingly impressed with my work that he has authorized me to task you with your next reaving. Although... you won¡¯t enjoy where you¡¯re going first, which is why I, in part, think I was asked to administer this tasking.¡± Alain is talkative, yes, but professional. Her borderline curt pauses betray a kind tone, providing more mixed signals than a pubescent serpent-girl. ¡°You must first meet with a Goddess in Ascentia, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Gah, I should have known as much. Why send one from the Below, then? Why was I not carted away to the ¡®holy land¡¯ in a golden chariot instead?¡± Distaste for Ascentia or Descentia is natural in Chassa, for how both worlds take one hundred percent of the credit for all decisions made in their betwixt limbo world. However, this sharp tongue on Caspian seeking damage to Ascentia is anything but natural, even for Chassans.


    ¡°While as insane as that sounds, I refuse to acknowledge it further,¡± Alain smacks back, dismissing the insult to the upper Gods¡¯ world. ¡°This is the reason you were not pulled aside in Bea by an Ascentian. You find it difficult to work with them, so I must be a mediator to ensure all goes well. Last time, you nearly ceased a reaving because you wouldn¡¯t satisfy the God of Fortune¡¯s... ridiculous, though doable request.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not speak of the ¡®Gold Case,¡¯ please, Alain. Fine, then... which door?¡± Of course, he speaks in regard to a natural ability of all within Ascentia, Descentia, and Chassa, which is quite simply teleportation. While there are physical, mental, and social limits, any being of those three worlds can hold the ability to port between any other world, including Bea, through any door of their choosing. This inherent gift is lost to Caspian, however, as he prefers cruder methods of travel between planes of existence.


    Before directing him to a surely random building at the side, the Elf takes a few strides in front of him in order to lead and set some form of standard for the two. This building, likely a Chassan resident¡¯s home- maybe a Council member¡¯s, maybe a common worker¡¯s- has a rather plain-looking door that lacks any hint of what may be inside. It¡¯s true possessions remain a mystery as the entrance leads to a brighter, much more beautiful land. Almost instantly, heads begin to turn to see which being of Chassa was both able and willing to open a door to Ascentia- it is uncommon for Chassans to leave their native land, let alone travel to the world of the Gods.


    Alain keeps the portal open very briefly, probably to keep the glow of Ascentia from flowing into Chassa any longer than needed. Her eyes rest now over her acquaintance¡¯s expression. A faint smile appears as his scowl lightens the smallest bit. ¡°I thought you were unhappy with this place.¡±