Abysswalker: The Darkness Grows

…

In my dreams, I smell the old lands.

I hear children playing.

I think I see someone.

These feelings, they’re not for me.

.

I move by shadows, among the unsung.

The dream fades, submerged by a suffocating, cold darkness. Just like that it’s gone, leaving behind nothing but choking shadows as well as something else.

What is it?

“Rain.” The tears of the sky; he loved it just as much as he found himself hating it.

Opening his eyes the cloaked figure glanced about. Nothing, not light not dust pierced the dark blanket that enveloped this land. A darkness was deluding the senses almost to the point of madness.

He didn’t mind it.

“Why should you?”

Sighing, the figure sat up, stretching slightly as he listened to the rain that seemed just beyond him. He stared into an unbreaking darkness, getting to his feet before seeming to reach for something. “Oh right.” He muttered. “He muttered. “Lantern’s broken.” He mused before sighing to himself. “Gotta find some parts to repair that.”

“Why bother.”

Something called to him.

“You don’t need it.”

A voice speaks from the blackness.

“You never needed it.”

It doesn't lie.

Though not “nocturnal” in nature, he had been born with rather acute nightvision. No matter how black the darkness became he saw it as clear as day. Still, he detested these eyes, eyes that glowed like molten gold in both shadow and light.

“It’s part of you though.”

The whispers state.

“Embrace it.”

The figure just breathes, closing his eyes to see something smiling at him. Opening his eyes again, he scans the dark horizon; taking it in, staring at what looks like the mouth of a cave giving way to the gravelands of a broken world.

Weeds and cracked stone, decay and broken bones.

All as far as these cursed eyes could see.

Gazing beyond the mouth of his temporary abode he breathes,wandering forward and stepping into the rain. Not even bothering to pull his hood up, just letting the rain wash over him like he was wading through water.

These gravelands they were old - older than him and that was saying something. Resting far beyond the realms where the Creator’s light and laws existed, the resting place of the old realms forgotten, untethered and adrift in the fathomless blackness.

It was home to secrets better left buried, powers left forgotten and monstrosities best left unseen.

Those beyond called it the Abyss, the Blackness that may one day envelop creation.

Those within? Well they didn’t call it anything.

These gravelands didn’t need a name to be called, it was their home, their den whose reach extended far past the pitiful excuse for the multiverse that existed under the Creator’s light.

“I want their blood.”

The whisper returns.

“The creator’s blood… how… delicious.”

It purrs as he walks on.

“You want it too.”

True words or a false statement, the figure wasn’t too sure; nor would he give the whisper the pleasure of an answer. Lightning punctured the sky for but a moment and thunder roared like the drums of war. It didn’t faze him, though his gaze turned skyward as if searching for something. Whatever he found - whatever he failed to find eluded even him, so he just turned his gaze forward to walk on. Disappearing into a random shadow-kissed direction.

Disregard the rain, discard the thunder. The shadows were not silent, and they were not empty.

He heard them whisper and scream and curse, plead and beg and mourn. He saw them glare and point. Shaking his head once, then several more times, he breathed, trying to drown them out; the voices of the dead that haunted him.

‘Listen to their screams.”

The whisper sounded almost delighted, almost aroused as he moved on.

“Do they not sound beautiful?”

“No, they don’t.” The figure mutters as he moves on. “Be quiet, all of you.” The dead do not listen, their screams and wails form a song that plagues him like an affliction. “Please, just be quiet.”

They refuse, and all he can do is listen to their wicked words, breath, and press on.

It was all he could ever do.

How long does he bother walking?

That is a question that can not be answered. All he knows is that he walks, and the broken land beneath him refuses to change, refuse to give wave to a road of any kind. In a contradiction, cursed eyes grant blessed vision, and he sees nothing.

No old roads make themselves known to him, and no hint of life or shelter tells him where shelter of mankind might be.

Then again he actually wasn’t looking for something like that in the first place. Still knowing bhis luck he’d find such a place anyway.

Eventually of course.

Meanwhile the storm continues; it does not grow, it does not waver. It just… continues; without pause, without interruption. The thunder, the lightning are a blessing. In the brief moments they come, the voices fall silent he is reminded he is alone in this unbroken darkness.

“You are never alone.”

The whisper sounds almost tauntingly, even lovingly.

“I am always here with you.”

“I know.” The figure mutters and moves on.

It “feels” like a longtime before his eyes see something. It’s a building. It’s light is being choked by darkness, but still the light shines. It was lonely, and not what he sought. Still it drew him towards it, like a shark smelling blood.

It is with an uneasy trepidation that he found himself approaching this lonely light, as he listened to the buzzing that left it.

Why does it buzz?

What sorcery causes this?

It isn’t such a thing. Only the reverberations of a weeping fabric, one that composed of everything in and outside of “reality”. Space and time; everywhere and nowhere, the future, the past.

The whisper shudders in delight.

“Listen to the weeping of tattered reality…”

He does.

“Don’t you love it?”

“No.” The figure mutters. “I don’t.”

“You lie~”

He wasn’t sure which of them was telling the truth, himself or the voice in the blackness. Even if he did, it wouldn’t change anything.

Reaching out the figure just breathed, touching something that was both everywhere and nowhere and seemed to sigh. “TIt wasn’t torn on this side.” The figure mused. “This is just the “exit hole”.” He told himself. “Have to close it on the “entrance”.”

“Leave it.”

The whisper growled in his ear.

“Leave it, let it grow…”

“No.” He muttered as he “released” a tear both everywhere and nowhere at once. “I let it grow, and the others will find it, step beyond the “door” and go wherever this begins.”

The whisper growls.

“Why?”

It hisses.

“All will be devoured by the Abyss, why do you deny it’s hunger?”

“It isn’t this realm’s time yet.” The figure muttered as he tapped one point, the tear and then the next, enforcing hiss will on it’s own and causing not to change. “When it’s time… it will be fed upon, until then.” He paused as the weeping both reality and unreality grew to be screaming. “Let them live in peace.”

The whispered growled at him.

“I *hate* you.”

“I know.” The figure dived into the screaming tear. “I hate me too.”

There is no single door between two realities. One doesn’t just “open” it and then you find another realm at the other end of it. It’s a network, forged from tunnels that branch out like the intricate web woven by an ethereal spider. Opening one door in one realm leads one into the labyrinthine tunnels. Finding another and opening it? Only then will one be able to leave it and reach the next realm.

And he knew exactly which tunnel to go down and which door to open. He could be blind, deaf, dumb, and amputated, her would still be able to find the door he needed to seek out.

He always knew.

Leaving the tear, the door into limbo - the space between realms, the figure just took a moment to look around. The rain didn’t reach here, but he did find that the night had taken this world. Above he saw the half moon and the stars as they sang a melody that existed only in what others called white noise.

When was the last time he saw the beauty of a night sky?

“Six millennia ago.”

“That so; my how time flies.” The figure muttered before looking around, taking notice of the city that rested before him, and then the statue that his back was pressed against and the courtyard and building that rested beyond. “So.” He mused.” This is where the door was opened.” He continued as vapors left his cloaked form and it started to change.

It wasn’t just his cloak, his body was changing with it.

Transmogrification; shapeshifting. The trick was so old even the combined age of several hundred realities would not begin to rival it’s age.

Resting his fingers, the figure just ran his hand against the statue's base before making a noise.

“I see.” He mused. So that’s why it’s here.” He thought as saw the story etched not into the stone but rather time itself. Stories written upon separate events came to him.

The first story was of a ghost leaving the statue, wobbling as they did so..

The second story was of the same ghost this time going back into the statue and returning.

The third was of another ghost falling outside of the statue accompanied by a pup of some sort.

The fourth was of that ghost returning to the statue.

The fifth; they return again.

The sixth they leave again.

The seventh two approach, one ghost he could recognize and one similar but not exactly like the other.

The eighth; The other ghost returned, meeting the one that was similar to them.

“This statue is a gateway.” The figure muttered to himself dragging his fingers as he started to wander around the statue. “Someone turned it into a door to enter this world.” He walked to the otherside before tapping it, watching stone ripple. “It’s been tampered with too.It won’t close normally.” He mused. “In that case~” He tapped it again, this time extending his will to dominate the doorway. “May none enter nor exit this realm from this side without my consent.”

The statue shuttered, like a child scared of being reprimanded by their parents. Removing his finger he tapped it several more times, the hardness of stone meeting him as he nodded. That does it for this one.” He mused before wandering back to the other side and stared at the fluctuations of space-time still present. “Still, it looks like someone was able to extract part of the mana that opened it from this side and made a second door.”

He touched it.

“I wonder why.”

“Who the fuck cares?

He closed the door.

Putting his hand down before looking at the statuer and to the school beyond. “Well that takes care of that.” He mused before going silent and just listened to his surroundings. “I sense two forms of mana in this world.” He muttered under his breath before looking back to the statue. “What rests here is…”

“Equestrian.”

The whisper in the night spat the words out as though they were some kind of curse.

Meanwhile the figure just stared at the closed gateway before frowning. “Equestrian Mana.” He muttered. “You lead to an Equestrian realm.” He began, and with how long you have been open you have been spreading, infecting this world with its mana.

The statue seemed to shudder again, as he raised an arm.

“I don’t blame you.” He glided his hand over the statue as though he were being careful with an abused pet. “You did nothing wrong. You didn’t ask to be created, let alone be forced open.” He whispered. “I know that feeling well.” He told it. “What’s done is done, and though you are closed now, the intrusion of Equestrian magic will remain, merging with the remnants of mana still floating about in this realm, and mutating it.

“Destroy it.”

The Whisper growled.

“Destroy the magic.”

He held his head.

“D̸̢̨̯͖͇̘͉̹͚̤̊́̽̚̕ę̶̤͕͔͉̰͓̤̺͍͚̠͔̮̅̆̉̅̋s̵̢̢̹̪͉̰̟̟̪̗͈̘̗̩͌̃̿̕t̴͔͓̜͓̮͓̹͙͉̄̓́͌ṛ̴̡̪̪̼̺͕̲̀̀́̃͠ǫ̴̞͖̤̺͙̹͙͎̗̫̫͌͛̐̾́̄͆̉͂̒͂̊͘ͅȳ̴̡̜̘͉̤̤̲͉̳̣̫͕̻͔͕̼̉̈́͑͜ ̵͕̟̦̭̦̫̦̱̲̠̻͔͎̍̃́̌̐̚͠͝͝t̷̲̤̣̳́̑͒̌̉̏̿̈́͐̌̄͗̕ͅh̵̥̦̦̲̯̟̮̮̱͉͖̘̩̼͒̀̇̎̀͂̿̓̀̐̇͘͠í̸̛̥̭͎̥̗̹̝̜̩̘̣̮͉͇̠̱̂̎s̴̳̈͛͋͌̅̂͂͌͌̈̈́͒̕̚͝͠͝ ̴̨̛̫͇͕̳͎̠̥̭͍̼̪̬͚͕̅̄͑̆͛̈́̔̄̂̓͊̓̕͝w̶̡̨̨̫̗͖͚̟̱̠̭͚͑̅̂͋̈́̃͘̕͝ơ̴̢̡̛̜̙̜̱̭̻̠̅̆̍̀̈́̓̉̒͌̋̉̕̕͘̕͜͜ȑ̷̨̧̲̺̹̳̻̟͙̜͇͍͉̎̇́̂͒́̚ļ̵̢̞̰̱̲͉̯͇̞̼̺͕͓̻̹͗͝ͅḍ̸̛̛̱͎̫̩͍̳͕̪̹̽͊͌̈́̂̌̎̋̀͋̈́̒ͅ.̵̲̯̩͕̭͙̣̲̙̫̩̭̠͓̪̈́̃́̀̇.̶̢̛̱̱̤̤̈̐̿́̀͒̌̾̚̚͝ͅ.̶̼̊̾͐̃̈́͑̓͗̕”

“Be quiet.”

“D̷̨̮͔͎̙̜̂̿͜͝͝ę̷̢̻̳̻͎͖͈̖͉̉̊͂̃̀̅̈͐͐͘͜͠͝ͅs̶̢̯̹̖͇͔̆͒͘͜ͅͅt̸̢͚̤̳̼̬̠̲̞̙̪͔̅̾̃̌̉͆̇͛̈̒̀͑̌̓͛͝͠ͅr̵̲̟͎̟̤̈̓̂̀̉̓̈̀̀͛̾͊̿͌͝ỏ̶̧̞̞͙̻̞͓͈̟̹̞͔̥͇̟͂̌̈̊̓͒̇͆̓̊͑̏̀͑̆͘y̵̢̧̧̟̅̍̇̇͝͝ ̶͚̥̹͎͇̯͖̓̏̒́̔͆̒t̵̛͍̬͚̞̬͕̤̩͚͎͉̲͕̀̊̆̄̉͒̈́̒̈̄͗̊͝ͅh̴͓̥͗̇̀̑̒͐̎̿̌̽́̓͘͠͝e̸̡̧̛̯̮͎͎̱̟͈͚̘̭̣̼͇̟̓͜ ̵̬͓̤̌͗̈́̚r̷̩̘̳̩̪͖̼̅̀̆̀͒̊̆̐͑͌̍̑̏̕e̶̗͈͉͒̑̿̋͛̅͠ȧ̸̧̻͔̼̣͔͕͓̪̩l̸͉̗̗̪̼͚̑̀́̓̈́̚ͅm̵͈̲̤̱̱̟̪̮͚͂̿̈̓͑̿ ̶̨̩͓͚̺͈̫̤̖͙̙̻́̽͐͋͗̈́̉͑̾̽́͐̇̀̏͘ͅb̵̬̻̝̩̬̪͎͖͈̄͌͆͜e̷̪̖̟͍͙̗̙̻̻̱͉͖̬̓̓͜͝y̵̛̹͈͚̬̱̩͈͙͎͍̣͓̹̭̍͐̒̌̾͗̈̋͆̀̚̚̚͝͝͝ͅȯ̷̪̰͐̒̃̋̏̿͆̏̂̊̃̒͋n̶̢͐̓̀́ḑ̴̝̱͙͚̥̩͖̫̯̣̼͙͐̀͝.̴͕̙͙̱̪̈́́͂̽̽̕͝͝ͅ.̴̳̬̟̫̣̼̭̗̞̰̔̿ͅ.̵̨̨̧̛̗̝̪̭͎̜̦̻̥͎̌͒͑͒͂̐̊̌͋̈̈́̂̏͜͝”

The whisper continued as his shadow started to shift.

The ground started to shake and crack.

The air started to suffocate, grow rancid.

The song of the stars fell silent as they began to disappear, running away like scared children.

The sleeping Gods of this realm started to stir, fright etched onto their essence as they felt ready to abandon their own dimension.

“D̵̡͈̖̱̼̮̝̮̦͇͚͎͒̍͆̀̆̾̄̕ͅe̵̢̲̦̙̜͍͖̤̼͔̻̟̜͚̝͔̥̅̌̔̔̔̎͊͛̍͒ṡ̵̡͙̗̼̩̣̠͇̠͈̩̻́̓́̅̈́̕͜͝t̸̛̤̪̼͉͔̻̼͉̼̖̻̰͍̪̗̥̓̈̐̔r̴͍̫̥̗̮̭̱̠̠͔̣͚̟̫͎̬̐͒̄̚ͅǫ̴̢̬͔̫̠̘͚̳͓͇͖͂̅͐̉̍͊y̴̧̲̥͍̘̮̩̐͂̍̓̊̑͗͒̋̂̿̈́̋̚͝͝ ̷̟͙̯̿͋̈́̎́͗̉͑̔̓̕͘̕͘ͅt̷̖̟̀̑̕͠h̶͉͔͔̦̩̘͔̻͎͍̖̓͆͋̈́͊̓́͆̅̌̔̇̕̚͜͝ē̶̳̖͕̳̰̮͈̗̭͓̩̩̯̳̮͇̌́ͅ ̸̡̧̧͉̟̼̞̼̗̖̮̣́̓͗̌̀͊̌̌̌͊͝Ę̶͓͚̎̉̋͌̅̈́̅̂͊̾͌̉̕͘͝͠͝q̵̘͙̟͙̭͒̔̋̏̑̒͋͋͐̈́͆̓͠͝͠ų̴̰̝͚͕̟̣͋͒̂̀ę̸̧̧͚̪̫̞̭̪͕̳̦̞̂̾̀̓̓͊̉̈́̃͑̓͜͠͠ś̶̡̧̞̘͙̬̻̰͔̰͕̿̈̏̐͜t̵̺̘̙̠͇̗̥͇̹̬͈̾́́̀͛̽̓̀͛͌̿̓͆͠͝ͅr̵̯͙̜̭̣̗̙̞̠͔̜͓͖̈́͋̊͐̏̀̒̈̒͂̏̈́̓͜͝͝ī̸̢̧̱̺̜̤̜̪͉̬̓̌͛̾̽̂̂̂̚͠ͅä̶͍̦́̄̑̈̽̇͝ ̶̨̫̬͈̞̯̲͔͂͆̈͠b̷̡̜͎̟͍̞̈́̽͑͆͛̒ȩ̸͇͍̘͎̲͍̤̞̤̰͖̝̝̈́̏́͠ͅy̶̧̛̙̤͈̝̙͙̆̈͆̕o̶̢̘̬̗͎̞͚̙̞̯̳̫̙̮̖͔͓̿̔͆͒͠n̸̡̡̡̢̛͔͓̭͕͉̩͉̰̹̯͍̳̻̊͛̋̈̔̇͐͆̿̆͊̏̚͠d̷͚͍̥̝̙̹̳̫̮̫̹͓̱̲̟̀̅ ̴̤͚̟̹͚̞̓̍̄͑̎́͒́̊͑̕ţ̴̯̯̦͉͈͖̀̃̈́̓͋̒̎͐̕h̶̢͉͚̥͙͕̭̤̲́̈́̍̊͊̆̄̈́͋̐̕̚̚̚ͅī̷̧̛̯͇̼͚̩̺̪͍͇͉̲͉̇͜͝ͅṣ̸͔̐͆̌̔̊̈́̔̀ ̴͉̘͂̆͝͝r̴̨̧̢̨̼̫̰̭͖̹̮̼̣͈̳̱͕͋̒̀̚͝ę̸͕̩̝͚͙̪͙̹̪̬͌̾͊͐͑̉͑̇̒͝ä̶͓̖̫̫̺͉̜̻́̃͂̂́́͘l̴̡̫̼̜̞͙̬͖̥͍̍͑̀ͅḿ̴̧̪̥̱̯̻̱̩̠̺͔̝̝̠̏̊̀̉̀̉͌̄́̄͂̉̚͠ͅ!̶̧̧͓̫̲̳̳̤̹̩͍̲̹͍̥͑̀̈̈̐͐̾̿̈́̏”

“Be SILENT!” The world returned to normal as he leaned against the statue, shaking panting as he fought against the monster hiding under his skin. He calmed down after mere moments pulling his fingers out of his skill to find they had drenched themselves in neon amber blood that seemed to squirm like a few hundred snakes crawling on top of one another.

He felt the holes in his skull heal, the amber colored blood seeming to burn away.

He clenched his fists gathering his bearings and let it rest on his temple.

“I will not… let you possess me.” He whispered. “I will not destroy… not again.”

“Coward.”

The whisper told him.

“You deny your destiny.”

“I have no destiny.” He muttered before turning skyward, watching the stars return and cautiously begin to sing once more. “I’m sorry, I scared you all.” He told them, Creation itself as he looked to the city and started wandering off. “ I won’t return to being that thing.” He muttered. “I give you my word.”

He always kept his word.

It was after all, the only thing he had left.