Darkness was not empty.
It was aware.
Kael floated in a boundless void where no ground existed and no sky could be seen. His body felt distant, like a discarded shell, while his consciousness burned painfully bright.
Chains of shadow coiled around him, tightening with every heartbeat.
—You are broken—
—You are betrayed—
—You are suitable—
The voice did not come from one direction. It came from everywhere, overlapping itself like a chorus of drowned gods.
"What are you?" Kael demanded, his voice echoing weakly.
The darkness shifted.
A presence emerged—not a form, but an absence where reality should have been. Staring at it made his thoughts unravel.
—I am the Abyss that devours endings—
—I am the Crown cast aside by gods—
—I am what remains when thrones burn—
Kael's memories surged forward—District Nine in flames, Veyra's cold eyes, the Crown Authority's weapons aimed at his chest.
"I'm not your pawn," he growled. "I won't be controlled."
A low, reverberating sound rippled through the void.
Laughter.
—Control? No.—
—I do not command bearers—
—I consume them—
The chains constricted, piercing into Kael's essence. He screamed as pieces of himself were stripped away—fear, hesitation, mercy—each torn loose and swallowed by the abyss.
—Rise, then fall—
—Rule, then rot—
—Or drown before you begin—
Kael clenched his fists.
"If I'm going to be consumed," he said hoarsely, "then I'll take everything I can before that happens."
Silence.
Then—
—…Accepted—
Kael awoke to pain.
Not the dull ache of wounds—but the sharp, screaming sensation of rebirth.
He lay in the center of a crater where the street had collapsed inward. Black smoke curled from his skin as rain hissed against faint crimson embers glowing beneath his flesh.
His heart slammed violently.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
With the third beat, his wounds closed.
Bones snapped back into place. Torn muscle rewove itself with threads of shadow. Kael gasped as sensation flooded his body—every nerve screaming, every sense sharpened beyond reason.
He rolled onto his hands and knees.
The Authority soldiers were frozen in place.
One of them dropped his weapon.
"What… what is that?" someone whispered.
Kael slowly stood.
His reflection stared back at him from a shard of broken glass—eyes no longer fully human, pupils ringed with a faint abyssal red. Black markings pulsed briefly along his arms before sinking beneath his skin.
Power coursed through him.
Not explosive.
Not wild.
Patient.
The commander raised his rifle with shaking hands. "Open fire!"
They did.
Bullets tore through the rain—
—and stopped.
Midair.
The projectiles hovered inches from Kael's body, trembling as shadow wrapped around them like grasping fingers.
Kael tilted his head, curiosity flickering through the haze of his awakening.
"So this is the Crown Authority," he murmured. "You don't feel very… absolute."
He closed his fist.
The bullets crushed into dust.
Panic erupted.
One soldier turned to run.
The shadows beneath his feet rose and dragged him screaming into the ground.
Veyra backed away, her face pale. "Kael… listen to me. This isn't you. You don't know what you've taken."
Kael looked at her.
Really looked.
The woman he had trusted.
The woman who had chosen survival over loyalty.
"You were right," he said quietly. "I didn't know what I was."
He stepped forward.
"But now I do."
The abyss whispered eagerly inside him.
—First blood seals the crown—
Kael smiled.
And the underworld felt it.