Nightblade (Darkest night)

Four days later, the mud and pine cabin was quiet.

​Outside, the mountain wind held a steady, low whistle against the roofbeams, but inside, the air was warm and smelled faintly of charred resin and dried mint.

The sharp, metallic tang of blood that had filled the room during Morgan’s first two days of consciousness had finally faded.

​Morgan sat upright against the wooden headboard, his legs stretched out flat before him beneath a heavy wool blanket.

His right leg remained bound in rigid wooden splints, strapped tightly from his hip down to his ankle.

Pain was still a constant, heavy presence—a dull, throb-and-ache cycle that spiked into a white-hot sharp needle whenever he shifted his weight.

But atleast, the fever was gone.

His ribs no longer creaked sickeningly when he drew a deep breath. Which was something at least. He was alive, he was on the fast track to recovery.

​And even more fortunately this particular morning, he was alone.

Raven had left hours ago—or perhaps a day ago... time had a habit of sliding together in the dim, lantern-lit room.

The ever lovely Angel had dropped off a fresh poultice that morning, checked his pulse with cold, silent fingers, and departed without a word.

It was quite easy to firhet the sinister Veliscera wraith lurking beneath those beautiful features but Morgan was already well acquainted eith just how dangerous she could be if she chose to.

Sye, that stoic bastard, was nowhere to be seen. But Racen had told him how they’d all watched over him while he lay unconscious and even waited, hoping against hope once he’d fallen into the abyss.

Surviving the rockfall had been an ordeal he’d rather not repeat.

Even with Sarenus’s help, he’d just barely syrvive the hail of falling rocks as the range collapsed all around him.

​Morgan took a quiet breath, resting his hands palms up on his knees. He closed his eyes.

​It was time to check the damage.

​He sank inward, pulling his awareness away from the cold wooden walls and the aching muscle of his chest, slipping down into the familiar, subterranean landscape of his inner world.

For as long as he had possessed the dual nature, his Void had been plagued defined by a tense, volatile friction.

In the moment when he’d faced off against Azrael, the Void and thr golden sun had reached an unprecedented level of synchronicity.

But ever since then, deep down he’d failed to reach the same level of cohesion.

Within the Void, the golden sun stood, a brilliant, unyielding furnace of radiant power.

On the other hand, the Void, an endless, hungry abyss that devoured the light.

At this point, to use one was to suppress the other.

And to wield both simultaneously was like trying to hold two wild beasts by their throats while standing on a tightrope even as the two appeared to work in sync.

When Morgan peered into the Void, he froze.

«

​The golden sun still burned at the center of his consciousness, its brilliant, pale-gold light pulsing with a calm, steady rhythm.

Instead, the dark, translucent tendrils of the Void were flowing around it, surrounding the luminous orb and orbiting around it tandem.

They coiled smoothly around the sphere of light, sliding over the radiant surface like silk wrapping around hot iron.

Where the light hit the darkness, there was no violently crackling or resistance.

​They were orbiting one another. Moving in a silent, fluid, perfectly synchronized dance.

​Morgan stared at the phenomenon, his mind briefly struggling to process the sight.

​"What exactly happened down there?" he thought, the memories of the abyss beneath the Zeregran Ranges flickering in his mind.

In the heat of battle left, amidst the adrenaline fueled clash, his body and mind had reflexively worked as one to survive. But now, he had time to ponder and gloss over every intricate detail of what had transpired.

He remembered the collapsing rocks. He remembered the crushing weight of the mountain.

He remembered the blinding, terrifying pressure of the titanic creature in the dark—Nythrakar—and the cold, pale egg he’d offered him.

He remembered Nythrakar’s voice echoing through the dark.

...And now—we discover whether you can survive yourself...

For the first time since the Void had changed, Morgan tentatively reached out with his will toward the golden sun.

​Instantly, before his intent could even fully form into a command, the light flared softly. But at the exact same heartbeat, a thread of Void slid out from the dark orbit, perfectly matching the pulse of the light.

His eyes widened slightly.

There was no iota of resistance and no friction.

He decided to fully delve into the Void.

From the lightless sands of the Void, a dark figure rose, his eyes burning with immolating pools of white flame.

Morgan pushed forward, floating into the air until he reached the golden sun was anchored in the Void orbited by the endless lightless expanse.

The moment he reached for the luminous orb of pulsating light , the Void answered in unison, the two moving with a seamless, effortless speed that was almost terrifying.

"Very interesting..."

He slowly touched down settling down into a comfortable pensive position on the sand.

​"Is this a breakthrough? Did the Void evolve from absorbing Nythrakar’s egg? Or..." Morgan pondered, his mind racing.

"Or did whatever was in that egg change the Void itself..."

​Driven by a sudden, dangerous curiosity, Morgan pushed his perception of the Void deeper.

He reached past the synchronized orbit of light and shadow, probing into the absolute center of his Void, the deep, lightless floor of his inner world.

​His awareness kept falling. Down. Down.

Into a depth that felt vast, cavernous, and utterly fathomless. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff in front of a boundless abyss.

Then his skin pricked ever so slightly. Within the vast abyss, something vast and ancient was resting in the nebulous darkness.

​Morgan’s consciousness recoiled instantly, snapping back to the surface.

His eyes flew open in the small, quiet room. He took a short, sharp breath, his heart thumping hard against his bandaged ribs.

"I see..."

​"Yeah," Morgan muttered softly to the empty room, his voice raspy.

"I’m definitely not touching that again today."

Before he could sink back into his thoughts, the heavy wooden latch on the door clicked.

​The door swung open with a slow, creaking groan.