A giant, encased cathedral that resembled an unmaintained greenhouse was not what Mitch had expected. Shelves of relics, artifacts of power, slumbering weapons, rings of influence, even withered bodies, or a secret horde of Abyssal creatures is what he anticipated.

  The site stole Mitch’s breath. The entire room was alive. A blend of Abyssal and non Abyssal abundance.

  Ambient glow suffused the space, sourced not from glowstones or magics but from the room itself. Plants–vivid and strange–thrived in every crevice of stone.

  Abyssal flowers with petals black as midnight curled against green vines, shooting out alive and reaching directly from the rock. Blossoms wide as a handspan throbbed with life, and thick veins of nectar dripped down their stalks.

  Interwoven among the Abyssal flora were roses vibrant and untouched by corruption. Ferns and wildflowers swayed gently from a mysterious breeze.

  A river ran lazily through the stone floor. Its water looked perfect and reflected the fauna like a mirror. Birds sang from branches of trees, standard and Abyssal, that stretched to the vaulted ceiling. Mitch even spotted tiny Abyssal mice scurrying and eating.

  The air felt different here–lush, sweet, and tinged with the mineral scent of the Abyss.

  Hathgar broke the revenant silence. “Birds,” he said with awe. “Haven’t seen em’ since… since I was a boy… not non Abyssal ones, that is.” His voice cracked.

  Varak was already bounding forward and darting between the flowers. She sniffed at the flowers and grabbed their stalks carefully as she hummed. “Mmm,” she crooned, “sweet…alive. Very not bad.”

  Mook stood frozen at the threshold. “How?”he finally rasped. “How can non-Abyssal flora grow here? There’s no natural light!” He muttered furiously as he studied the grass underfoot. “Unnatural. No. Too natural. Alive.”

  Sable stepped forward, her mismatched eyes wide in wonder. Finally, she managed, “It’s…beautiful.”

  Robin watched them all with his ever-present grin. “Ah, yes,” he said, his voice light. “Isn’t it magnificent? A bastion of power… and life.”

  Mitch couldn’t speak or move. His attention swept over the room. He hadn’t seen a living plant since he was murdered.

  But his attention was drawn to the center of the room. Where a raised dias sat beneath a canopy of fruiting vines. Upon it rested something–a shape he couldn’t make out, but it pulled at him, harder than anything ever had. Harder than the key. Harder than the draw of the Abyssal power.

  His steps carried him forward before he could think to stop. Rex leapt off his body, leaving his scarred and muscular frame exposed.

  The hound landed in a ripple of crackling purple shadow and sniffed at the flowers, tail wagging as he explored. But he could tell Rex wanted to explore the dias as well.

  At the far end of the room, a chair loomed. It’s back stretched high, and it wasn’t carved from stone but from a black material that shimmered like oil under stars. It watched over the space. Commanding, silent, and waiting.

  Mitch’s heart pounded as he neared the dias in his haste. The object came into view.

  A simple, unadorned piece of black fabric. It wasn’t grand or ornate, but its presence was undeniable. Power radiated from it, attempting to be subtle but so overwhelming it felt like an impossible wave. It sat waiting on the dais, untouched by time, and haphazardly placed like a discarded jacket.

  Galadrith rumbled. “Of course,” he said, voice revenant. “I should have known. This place has been waiting for you all along.”

  “That’s right, Sword,” Robin cackled at the back where he watched their wonder. “This is what you’ve been searching for. The most important relic of all. All are welcome, as are all followers, worshippers, relics, souls, and allies. But this is what you truly need in your quest.”

  The souls were restless, pushing him forward, offering themselves up for a Soul Sacrifice so that he could just get there quicker. Water flowed around the dias, and Mitch stepped into it, bathing himself up to his knees.

  His body remembered this. It had been here before. But Mitch–this version of him–had not. And yet, as he stared at the piece of fabric, such a simple thing, it felt right. He had been brought here, to Shadowreach, to the Pit, and now to this spot in the Estate, for a reason.

  He could handle the burden.

  Since he had broken free of the PIt, he had ignored the ever increasing debt. With each notification that it was increasing, he shoved it aside. A problem for tomorrow. Now, for the first time since he and Sable had been subjected to the torment of the Warden, he pulled it up.

  Burden: Pay the Abyssal Debt

  The Abyss accepts all forms of payment.

  Status: IncompleteActive Debt: -986,326*

  Interest: 666/dayCurrency: Souls, Flesh, Credits

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Please visit a Collection to make a payment.

  Do you give up?

  Settlement Amount: 353 Souls, 335 Beast Souls, 0 Credits, 896 Flesh.

  Mitch looked upon the final question of the Burden, and laughed. It was a belly laugh, and felt almost maniacal.

  It was absurd to think that he would give up now. To end his life, and send his soul down to the maw of the Abyss, or worse. When it was sitting right in front of him. Latch another victim to this body? When he had already defeated a lesser minion of the Warden, claimed a Mantle of Defiance, started his army in his squad and the waiting prisoners near the Pit? When he had only just begun his fight? Brought here by a ghost? That had helped build this Estate?

  Without thinking, Mitch smiled, reached down, and pet Rex, who lapped his tongue at his master.

  The Abyss must be joking.

  Even here, in the Estate, with it waiting right in front of him, he felt the pull of the Abyss. It was watching. Forever looking with unseen eyes with its gargantuan and festering power. Grimmers running rabid? The Front breaking under the surge of Abyssal monstrosities?

  The Abyss meant to break the world. And him. Into a giant hellscape through addictive subterfuge, recycling souls, and breaking the spirit of the population's mythos. They were all afraid of death. Of having their souls taken down to the maw and recycled into abominations that were sent to fight their loved ones.

  Hathgar was afraid. Sable was terrified of what was happening to her soul. Galadrith entombed himself to metal for a chance. Varak stuck herself to Mitch for a hope of her children having a better life. Patty joined in for a chance of protection. Leonard… didn’t seem afraid of anything, including a brooding elf. Everyone was so damned afraid.

  Mitch wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. He had forged himself in his past life. And in this one, during his inhabitation of Mitch, he had forged himself again.

  “Is that–? Fookin’ Traveler. Tall, strong, now this? Bah, now I have to stick around!.” Hathgar choked out.

  “Mitch, take it. It’s yours. I can feel it. Claim it.” Sable barked out too loudly. He couldn’t help but smile. His first follower. A Patchling. He would have to save her soul.

  Oh yes. I’m coming for you, Abyss.

  He swore he felt the pull of the Abyss rumble back at his thoughts.

  “Mmm. Master… after all. Knew… it. I prepare…feast of Bugs! Bug casserole. Yes!” Varak said with her broken voice as she clapped her hands.

  “It can’t be… I…,” Mook was at a loss for words.

  Mitch looked up to the throne at the back of the room. He was close enough to see the sparkles of what he thought was shifting light. It wasn’t swirling.

  Nails were embedded into the throne in a spiraling pattern. Its occupant would be stabbed as they sat and looked over the space.

  Fitting. Whoever put that there had a sick sense of humor.

  Mitch smiled to himself as he reached out a scarred hand. They were thick, calloused things. But he was used to them now. He had merged with his body.

  Truly, he should have known. His body had been telling him the entire time. With his Skills, with his debt. The answers weren’t all there, but he had finally filled in the massive gaping hole in the twisted puzzle.

  The piece of black fabric wasn’t just fabric.

  He grasped it, and an energy coursed through his body. It wasn’t pain, or power. It was a presence, overwhelming and undeniable.

  He lifted the fabric–a mask–and examined it. Simple, unadorned, and impossibly soft. Just a tube of shimmering black material. It wasn’t ornate or regal, yet Mitch felt the power radiating from it. A declaration that it belonged to him.

  No, he belonged to it.

  The Mask of the Masked Lord.

  Every instinct told him to wear it. His body, his souls, the souls he carried, everything pushed him to put it on. Slowly, Mitch raised the tube of fabric and pulled it over his bleached-white hair.

  The fabric molded to his face, clinging like a second skin. It was as if it had been waiting for this moment. For him.

  The mask settled, exposing only his glowing eyes, which blazed brother than ever, red blanketing the entire Cathedral.

  A notification flooded his mind. But it wasn’t the cold, mechanical tone of the Abyss. This was different. Older and brighter.

  Title Acquired: The Faceless One

  You are faceless. Shrouded, Blessed, and Cursed.

  The Abyss follows you, tempts you, cracks you.

  Face the Abyss. For you are The Faceless One.

  The Mother watches. She hopes and provides. Do not falter.

  The words lit his soul. Pressing down like the depths of an ocean. Mitch staggered, gripping the dais for support.

  Memories crashed into him like a tidal wave.

  The Masked Lord wasn’t just a title. It was him. Every version of this body. Every soul that had inhabited it, every decision made–this moment had happened before.

  His knees buckled.

  And light exploded from his body. It radiated in waves of black and white, swirling around him in a dance of power.

  The Cathedral trembled, acknowledging the return of its Master.

  The memories wouldn’t stop. Faces, battles, victories, places, failures–all blurred together. He saw versions of himself, standing, falling, fighting. Rising. Again. And again. And again.

  And through it all, the Abyss loomed, endless and consuming.

  And then, everything stopped.

  The light snapped back into him like a collapsed star. Mitch stood in front of the dias breathing raggedly. The river rippled around his knees as he took one last shaky step.

  His vision dimmed, his knees gave out, and the world tilted. As he fell, the notification stood at the front of his vision. A brutally white font pressing into him.

  Quest: Destroy the Abyss

  Defeat the Abyss at all costs, undo its dominion, and reclaim the balance of existence.

  The Mother will provide gifts when She can.

  Remember, you asked for resurrection. And you have received it. Do not squander it.

  Status: Incomplete

  Mitch collapsed backward, and fell into the flowing water with a splash.

  Better than piss, he thought, just as everything went black.

  End of Book 1 of Abyssal Curse.