The universe did not scream when Aurelion vanished.
It withdrew.
Seris felt it like a sudden pressure drop, as though something vast had pulled away from reality, leaving behind a vacuum where certainty used to exist. The Abyss stirred uneasily beneath her feet—not in celebration this time, but in wary anticipation.
She was still standing where the god had been erased.
Her hand trembled.
Mason did not release her.
His arms remained locked around her, solid and immovable, as though anchoring her to existence itself. His chin rested briefly against her temple—not a gesture of comfort, but of claim. Of presence.
"You're shaking," he said quietly.
"I'm fine," she lied.
He did not argue. He never did when the lie was for herself.
Instead, he loosened his hold just enough for her to turn within his arms. When she looked up at him, she saw something new in his expression—not triumph, not hunger.
Calculation.
"They won't wait now," he said.
As if summoned by the words, the Abyss convulsed.
Not violently—but defensively.
The darkness thickened, shadows layering upon themselves, forming vast, spiraling structures in the distance—bastions, ramparts, spires that had not existed moments before. The realm was fortifying itself.
Preparing.
Seris swallowed. "How many?"
Mason's eyes tracked something she couldn't see, gaze flicking across invisible planes. "Enough."
Her stomach dropped.
Before she could ask what that meant, the pressure returned—multiplied.
The air tore.
Not one rift.
Many.
They opened like wounds across the sky of the Abyss, jagged and furious, spilling radiance and power that clashed violently with the shadows. Gods poured through—not cautiously, not ceremonially.
They came armed.
Seris felt them like nails driven into her skull. Each carried a different weight, a different distortion of reality—time folding inward around one, gravity warping around another, memory unraveling at the edges of her thoughts as a third stepped through.
She staggered.
Mason caught her instantly, one arm locking around her waist, the other bracing her shoulder.
"Focus," he murmured, voice threading into her mind. "Do not let them fracture you."
"I—there are too many," she gasped.
"Yes," he agreed calmly. "That's the point."
A voice boomed across the Abyss, layered with many others—harmonized, authoritative, furious.
"SEVER THE NEXUS."
Pain exploded through Seris's chest.
She screamed as something clawed at the bond—not cutting it, but pulling, like a dozen hands trying to tear her apart from the inside. The silver mark flared violently, light and shadow clashing beneath her skin.
Mason snarled.
The sound was inhuman.
Shadows erupted outward from him, not wild, but precise—blades of darkness lashing out at the nearest gods, forcing them back. The Abyss responded instantly, terrain shifting, spires rising to intercept divine strikes.
But still—
They pulled.
Seris collapsed to her knees.
Her vision blurred as memories began to fracture—faces she could no longer place, moments slipping like sand through her fingers. The gods weren't trying to kill her.
They were trying to unmake her continuity.
Mason dropped beside her.
His hand clamped over the mark, shadows pouring from him into her, stabilizing the bond with brute force. The contact burned—searing, overwhelming—but it anchored her.
"Listen to me," he said urgently, forehead pressed to hers. "You cannot hold them all back alone."
Her breath hitched. "Then what do I do?"
For the first time since she had met him, Mason hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Then he made his decision.
"I finish what I started."
She stiffened. "What does that mean?"
He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.
"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly.
Fear coiled in her chest.
"Yes," she said anyway.
Something dark and resolute crossed his features.
"Good."
He rose.
The moment he let go, the pain intensified—but the shadows surged in response, buoyed now not just by her will, but by the Abyss's recognition of what was about to happen.
Mason stepped forward, placing himself between Seris and the gathered gods.
"You want the bond severed?" he called out, his voice carrying effortlessly across the battlefield. "You think that will restore order?"
The gods closed ranks, light flaring.
"We will erase you," one declared.
Mason laughed softly.
"No," he said. "You'll witness me."
He turned his head slightly, just enough for Seris to hear him.
"This is the line," he said. "Once I cross it, there's no pretending I'm anything else."
Her heart pounded. "Mason—"
He raised his hand.
Not toward the gods.
Toward the Abyss itself.
For the first time since she had entered this realm, Seris felt the darkness hesitate.
Not refuse.
Consider.
Mason spoke a word.
It was not a spell.
It was a name.
The Abyss answered.
Power surged—not through Seris this time, but through him. Shadows wrapped around Mason's body, not consuming him, but merging, threading into his veins, his bones, his very existence.
The gods recoiled.
"No—" one hissed. "He cannot—"
Mason's eyes ignited.
Silver vanished, replaced by something deeper, darker—void threaded with starlight.
"I was never mortal," he said, voice resonating with the Abyss itself. "I was never divine."
The shadows bent.
"I am what remains when gods fail."
He stepped forward.
Reality collapsed around him.
Where Mason walked, divine light extinguished. Time stuttered. Memory unraveled. Gods screamed as the Abyss reached through him, not as a conduit—but as a partner.
Seris watched in horror and awe as he tore through them—not slaughtering, not annihilating.
Overwriting.
One by one, gods fell—not erased like Aurelion, but stripped, reduced to fragments of power absorbed into the realm.
When the last rift sealed, silence crashed down like a wave.
Mason stood alone.
Changed.
The shadows receded slowly, leaving him breathing hard, shoulders tense.
Seris staggered to her feet and ran to him.
He turned just in time to catch her as she collided with his chest.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, she whispered, "What did you do?"
His arms tightened around her.
"I made myself indispensable," he said quietly.
She pulled back enough to look at him. "At what cost?"
His gaze darkened—not with regret.
With acceptance.
"They will never stop hunting us now," he said. "Not you. Not me. Not the bond."
Her voice shook. "And the Abyss?"
A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.
"It doesn't just recognize us anymore," he said.
"It depends on us."
Seris closed her eyes.
The universe had shifted.
And there was no way back.