The Abyss did not speak.
It never had—not with words, not with voices, not with declarations that could be argued or misunderstood. It communicated through pressure, through gravity, through the slow rearrangement of reality itself.
But now—
Now it leaned in.
Seris felt it the way one feels the gaze of something enormous and unseen. The air thickened, shadows stretching longer, deeper, converging subtly toward her and Mason. The battlefield where gods had fallen smoothed itself over, fractures sealing, scars vanishing as though the violence had never occurred.
Too neat.
Too intentional.
Mason did not relax.
He stood with one arm still around Seris, posture rigid, head tilted slightly as though listening to something beneath sound. The darkness no longer surged around him, but it lingered close—attentive, deferential.
Waiting.
Seris swallowed. "It's watching us."
"Yes," Mason said. "And deciding."
Her pulse quickened. "Deciding what?"
His jaw tightened. "What to do with us."
The ground beneath their feet shifted—not violently, but decisively. Obsidian rose, reshaping into a broad, spiraling platform that lifted them upward through the dark, ascending toward a vast hollow in the Abyss's core. Shadows flowed around them like water, forming arches and pillars that pulsed faintly with silver light.
Seris's breath caught.
She had felt powerful before. Commanding. Sovereign.
This was different.
This was being summoned.
The platform came to rest at the edge of an immense void—a hollow so deep and wide that it seemed to swallow distance itself. Within it, shadows churned slowly, threaded with veins of dim starlight.
The heart of the Abyss.
Mason stepped forward instinctively, placing himself between Seris and the void.
"No," she said softly.
He glanced back at her. "Seris—"
"I won't stand behind you anymore."
The words surprised them both.
She stepped past him, toward the edge, the darkness responding immediately—parting, making space for her presence. The silver mark flared, not painfully, but with resonance.
Recognition.
Mason followed, slower now.
The Abyss reacted.
The void stirred.
Pressure wrapped around Seris's mind—not crushing, not invasive—but probing. Curious. Ancient beyond comprehension.
She felt it then.
Not desire.
Expectation.
"It doesn't want to destroy us," she whispered.
Mason's gaze never left the void. "No."
"It wants something from us."
"Yes."
Her hands trembled. "What?"
For the first time since she'd known him, Mason did not answer immediately.
Then, carefully, "It wants permanence."
The word echoed inside her chest.
"Gods come and go," he continued. "They rise, rule, fall. Even immortals decay, fracture, lose cohesion. The Abyss has endured them all."
She looked into the churning darkness and understood.
"It's tired of being ruled over," she said.
Mason exhaled slowly. "It doesn't want gods."
The shadows surged upward, coiling, forming shapes—not faces, not bodies, but impressions. Concepts made manifest.
Bond. Continuity. Anchor.
Seris's heart hammered.
"It wants us," she whispered.
The bond flared violently in response.
Mason stiffened. "Careful."
But it was too late.
Understanding snapped into place like a locking mechanism.
The Abyss did not want worship.
It wanted integration.
A constant.
Something that would not abandon it. Not die. Not ascend beyond it.
Something bound not by hierarchy—
—but by obsession.
Seris's breath shook. "It wants to make us its axis."
The void pulsed.
Approval.
Mason swore under his breath.
"This is why it let me survive," he said quietly. "Why it tolerated what I am. Why it waited for you."
The shadows pressed closer, brushing Seris's skin like cold smoke.
"You're not just compatible with it," Mason said. "You complete it."
Fear and awe tangled in her chest. "And you?"
His mouth curved into something sharp and humorless.
"I'm the part of the equation that ensures you never leave."
The truth hit her with terrifying clarity.
Mason was not merely obsessed with her.
The Abyss had chosen him because of it.
"You knew," she said hoarsely.
"I suspected," he admitted. "I didn't expect it to be this… direct."
The void surged, shadows rising like waves, pressing inward.
A presence settled over them both—vast, patient, inevitable.
Seris's knees weakened.
Mason caught her automatically, but this time his grip was different—not claiming, not restraining.
Steadying.
"Say no," he said quietly. "If you want to. We'll run. We'll fight. We'll tear our way out if we have to."
She looked at him.
Really looked.
At the being who had defied gods for her. Who had rewritten reality rather than let her be taken. Who had crossed lines he could never uncross because he could not conceive of a universe without her in it.
Her chest ached.
"And if I say yes?" she asked.
His eyes darkened.
"Then nothing will ever be able to separate us," he said. "Not gods. Not death. Not time."
"And the cost?"
His voice dropped. "Freedom."
The Abyss waited.
Seris turned back to the void.
She thought of the gods—cold, distant, interchangeable. Of the Conclave's decrees. Of the way power had always been something borrowed, stolen, temporary.
Then she thought of the bond.
Of the way it burned and anchored her all at once. Of the terrifying certainty of Mason's presence—unyielding, relentless, absolute.
She inhaled.
"I won't be a god," she said clearly.
The void stilled.
"I won't rule," she continued. "I won't demand worship or obedience."
The shadows quivered.
"But I won't be prey either."
Mason's grip tightened slightly.
"I will be choice," Seris said. "I will be will. And I will not be alone."
The mark flared blindingly bright.
The Abyss answered.
Power surged—not violently, not overwhelmingly—but decisively, threading through her like a crown being set into place. Not above her.
Around her.
Mason gasped sharply as the bond reacted—tightening, deepening, sealing in a way that made separation unthinkable. The shadows wrapped around him too, not consuming, not dominating—
Acknowledging.
The void receded.
The platform lowered.
The Abyss settled.
When it was over, Seris stood trembling, breath shallow, power humming beneath her skin like a second pulse.
Mason knelt before her.
Not in submission.
In alignment.
His forehead rested briefly against her hand.
"You've changed everything," he said softly.
She swallowed. "So have you."
He looked up at her then—silver eyes now threaded permanently with shadow.
"They will come again," he said. "Stronger. Smarter. More desperate."
A slow, dangerous calm settled over her.
"Let them," Seris said.
The Abyss pulsed in agreement.
And far beyond the realm, the surviving gods felt it—
The moment the Abyss chose its sovereigns.