The first sign of war was silence.
Not the ordinary hush of the Abyss, not the whispering quiet that breathed and shifted and watched—but an absence so complete it felt like a wound torn through reality. The shadows froze. The air stilled. Even the Abyss's ever-present pulse faltered, as though something had reached into the heart of existence and held its breath.
Seris felt it before she understood it.
Her chest tightened, not in fear, but in recognition. The silver mark on her collarbone flared, heat spreading like veins of molten light beneath her skin. Power surged—not wild, not explosive—but deliberate. Focused.
"They've crossed the threshold," Mason said calmly.
She turned to him. He stood unnervingly relaxed amid the tension, hands loose at his sides, silver eyes darkened to the color of storm clouds at dusk.
"The gods," she said.
"Yes."
The Abyss shuddered.
Above them, the darkness split—not torn, but parted, as if reality itself had been forced to make room. Light spilled through the裂, not warm or holy, but blinding and sharp, edged with authority. A pressure descended, vast and crushing, bearing down on Seris's mind like an invisible crown being forced upon her head.
She staggered.
Mason was there instantly, not catching her, not steadying her—but positioning himself behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the weight of his presence anchoring her to the ground.
"Breathe," he murmured near her ear. "Do not bow. Do not reach. Let them see you standing."
She inhaled sharply, forcing her spine straight.
From the rift stepped a god.
He was not monstrous. Not twisted. He wore perfection like armor—golden skin untouched by age, wings forged of pure light unfurling behind him. His eyes burned with divine fire, and his presence alone made the Abyss recoil, shadows retreating in wary ripples.
"I am Aurelion," the god intoned, his voice echoing across planes. "Bearer of the First Dawn. Judge of Corrupted Realms."
His gaze fixed on Seris.
"You are an aberration."
The word struck like a blade.
Seris's hands curled into fists. The shadows around her stirred, responding to her pulse, her anger.
"You stand in a realm that devours gods," Aurelion continued. "And yet you live. You wield its power without sanction. Without order."
His eyes flicked briefly to Mason, narrowing.
"And you," he said coldly, "are an infection."
Mason smiled.
It was slow. Controlled. Deadly.
"Careful," Mason said softly. "You're standing very close to something you don't understand."
Aurelion lifted a hand. Light gathered in his palm, dense and radiant, compressing into a spear of divine judgment.
"You will kneel," the god declared. "Both of you. Or be unmade."
The Abyss growled.
Seris felt it then—not as an external force, but as something that rose within her, ancient and vast. The darkness did not ask her what to do.
It waited.
Her heart thundered.
Mason leaned closer, his voice threading into her mind like shadowed silk.
"Do not look at him as a god," he whispered. "Look at him as prey."
Her breath caught.
"You are not stealing power anymore," he continued. "You are deciding how it is used."
Aurelion's spear ignited, light screaming as it tore through the air toward her.
Seris raised her hand.
The Abyss obeyed.
Shadows surged upward in a tidal wave, not colliding with the spear—but swallowing it. Light vanished into darkness without resistance, without struggle, as if it had never existed at all.
Aurelion froze.
"What—"
Seris stepped forward.
The ground reshaped itself beneath her feet, obsidian rising into a dais without her command. Power rolled off her in quiet waves, silver light threading through shadow like veins of starlight.
"I will not kneel," she said.
Her voice did not echo.
It commanded.
Aurelion's wings flared. "You defy divine law—"
"I rewrite it."
The Abyss erupted.
Shadows wrapped around the god's wings, his arms, his throat—not violently, not hurriedly. They moved with dreadful patience, tightening as his light dimmed.
Mason watched, utterly still.
Not intervening.
Not assisting.
Allowing her to choose.
Aurelion struggled, divine fire lashing out, but the Abyss absorbed it all, feeding on his resistance. Cracks spread across his golden skin, light bleeding through like fractures in glass.
"You cannot—" he gasped. "I am eternal—"
Seris approached him until they were face to face.
"You are temporary," she said quietly.
She lifted her hand.
The shadows did not tear him apart.
They collapsed him.
Light folded inward, compressed into a single blinding point—then extinguished.
Silence fell.
Where a god had stood, there was nothing.
No ash. No remains.
Not even absence.
The Abyss exhaled.
Seris swayed.
The power receded slightly, leaving her trembling—not weak, but shaken by the finality of what she had done.
Mason was there before she could fall.
This time, he held her.
His arms wrapped around her from behind, solid and unyielding, grounding her as the shadows settled.
"You did perfectly," he murmured.
Her breath came in uneven bursts. "I killed a god."
"Yes."
His grip tightened—not possessive, not gentle—absolute.
"And the universe just learned something important."
She turned her head slightly. "What?"
His silver eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction.
"That you are not the Abyss's weapon."
His gaze flicked to the fading rift above.
"You are its verdict."
Far beyond the realm, other gods felt the moment Aurelion ceased to exist.
And they were afraid.