CHAPTER 66: IS THERE AN ABYSS IN THE ABYSS ?

The Abyss had opened again, its maw wide and unforgiving, and this time... it had chosen them.

Azareel reached out blindly, his heart steady despite the fall, the sudden drop filling his ears with silence louder than thunder.

He clutched Virelya’s arm, Nyxsha’s fur brushing his face, Sylvara’s hair tangling with his fingers—his silver eyes wide but unafraid, trusting in the warmth of their presence even as the darkness roared around them.

The Abyss had taken many things, but not them—not yet.

.

.

The abyss opened like a yawning throat, swallowing the last fragment of Sylvara’s blooming garden, leaving only nothingness beneath, the air a howling void that tore at Azareel’s silver-white hair and tattered tunic.

He couldn’t see—not the walls, not the floor, not even the wind that whipped past, only the distant shimmer of trailing vines and falling moss fading into pitch black.

The darkness was absolute, a weight that pressed on his chest, his stumps aching with phantom pain, a memory of wings long lost.

Yet, three glowing pairs of eyes surrounded him like stars refusing to burn out—

Nyxsha’s golden slits blazing with wild defiance, unblinking even in freefall.

Virelya’s gleaming like polished candlelight behind her cracked porcelain mask, ancient and unreadable.

Sylvara’s glowing the soft green of moss-fed flame, narrowed in quiet focus.

Even now, tumbling into the unknown void, they weren’t afraid, their presence a shield against the dark.

Azareel’s breath caught, his body weightless, his limbs limp in the air, the stumps where his wings once were throbbing as if yearning for flight.

He opened his mouth, the wind whipping past, and spoke calmly, his voice steady despite the chaos.

"You don’t need to shield me. I’m immortal. Brace yourselves. We don’t know what’s below."

None of them answered at first, the howling wind swallowing sound, the darkness pressing closer.

Then Sylvara’s voice floated to him through the dark, soft as falling leaves, laced with quiet resolve.

"We know you’re immortal, Azareel," she murmured, her amber eyes glinting in the void. "But that doesn’t mean we want to see even a scratch on you."

"She’s right Still one," Virelya whispered, her golden eyes steady, her coils undulating faintly. "Even timeless light can be dimmed. We’ve seen it."

"Hmph," Nyxsha’s gruff voice came, unusually close, her massive form twisting midair.

"You think I can’t brace myself and protect you at the same time? Tch. I’ve taken falls bigger than this in my sleep."

Azareel blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the plunge.

"Is that... a thing to be proud of?" he asked, his voice laced with gentle humor.

Her furred form twisted closer, letting out a low growl that sounded far too smug.

"Shut up," she snapped, her golden eyes glinting with playful defiance.

"You are underestimating me Angel," she snarled to the others, her voice carrying over the wind. "I’ve got four limbs and two tons of rage. You are basically falling into a mattress made of muscle."

"More like fur and fat," Sylvara said sweetly, her vines trailing like a comet’s tail in the dark.

Virelya let out a slow, amused sigh, her mask tilting. "Dense enough to resist fall damage, perhaps."

"Say that again and I’ll claw your vines in your sleep," Nyxsha snapped, her voice flustered, her tail lashing midair.

Azareel, still hovering among them, his silver-gray eyes sparkling, opened his mouth to speak—but Sylvara extended her hand, her lithe form upside down in relation to him, her flowering hair floating like roots in slow motion.

In her palm, she held a single glowing berry, faintly pulsing like a heart, its soft green light piercing the dark.

"Take it," she said gently, her amber eyes steady. "You’ll see us better."

Azareel reached out, his fingers brushing hers as he took the berry, its warmth seeping into his skin.

It flared, light bursting around him like a soft bloom—not blinding, not sharp, just enough to reveal what the shadows had hidden.

And then he saw them—

Their gentle faces.

Not as beasts, not as monsters, but as protectors, their forms illuminated in the void.

Nyxsha’s massive body curled around him like a barrier of living obsidian, her four limbs poised to intercept any strike, her mouth—wide and lined with fangs—closed in fierce concentration, not hunger, her scarred tail wrapped just slightly around his leg, grounding him.

Virelya’s serpent form glided beside them, her humanoid torso angled to catch him if he twisted out of position, her cracked mask tilted downward, her coils undulating protectively like a living cage of scripture and silk.

Sylvara’s body angled beneath him, vines drifting upward like netted arms, her mossy cloak fluttering like wings he no longer had, her amber eyes fierce with resolve.

They were monsters—terrifying, cursed things—and yet they were holding him like he was precious.

Azareel’s chest tightened, his eyes stinging from the wind—or maybe something else, a quiet ache of gratitude.

He smiled—not the polite smile he gave when unsure, not the soft one to reassure, but something genuine, raw, his silver eyes shimmering in the berry’s light.

"I see you," he said softly, his voice trembling with heartfelt weight, echoing through the void. "All of you."

Nyxsha scoffed, her golden eyes glinting.

"Of course you do. You’re holding a damn light fruit," she muttered, but her tail tightened slightly, her voice softer than her words.

He chuckled, the sound warm despite the fall.

Virelya tilted her head, her golden eyes narrowing.

"You’re not afraid?" she asked, her voice a breathy whisper, her coils shifting closer.

"Never," he said, his silver eyes steady, his smile unwavering.

They smiled too—even Nyxsha, though she quickly covered it with a growl, her golden eyes flickering with reluctant warmth.

And then—

BOOM.

The impact hit like a god’s heartbeat, the earth—or whatever passed for earth in the Abyss—shuddering beneath them as they crashed together into a tangled heap of vines, fur, and coils, the ground groaning under their weight.

Dust and ash rose in clouds, the berry slipping from Azareel’s hand, landing with a soft thud and continuing to glow in the darkness, a faint beacon in the chaos.

A heavy silence followed.