Chapter 88: The Curse of Abyssal Damnation!
"You said... ’Abyssal Damnation’," Damon said, his voice low. "What does that mean?"
The man gave a bitter chuckle, though it was devoid of humor. His violet eyes dimmed, and he sat down near the altar’s edge, resting the blackened saber against his shoulder. "A fate worse than a siege. Worse than annihilation."
The woman remained standing, her prismatic robes shimmering like light passing through cracked glass.
She looked toward the horizon, where what remained of the Broken Sky Expanse stretched into spirals of gravity-locked terrain and warped time-pockets.
"Abyssal Damnation is what happens when the Abyss chooses not to destroy something," she said softly, "But to consume it... slowly."
The man picked up from there, "They seal off an entire region, usually one full of potential or power. Like Elarith Valis. They isolate it from the world, from spirit lines, from divine resonance. It becomes its own decaying plane, one that still exists, but cannot call for help. Not even the gods can see inside."
Damon’s brows furrowed, "A spiritual quarantine?"
"Worse," the woman answered. "A spiritual infection. Everything within begins to rot. Reality becomes soft. Truth and memory unravel. At first it’s subtle, architecture begins to repeat itself, time skips forward or back without cause, your own thoughts feel disconnected."
The man nodded, "Then the voices start. Whispers from the corners of your mind. Memories that aren’t yours. Paranoia. Doubt. Eventually, people forget who they are. They lose their sense of self... and that’s when the Abyss fills the void. That’s when they turn."
A chill ran down Damon’s spine, "Those creatures just now... the ones you said were protectors..."
"They were," the woman whispered, "Once. Captains and Archivists. Some of the most brilliant people we ever knew. Now, they’re just shadows of who they were. The Abyss keeps their abilities, their faces... but not their minds. The shell remains, filled with Abyssal Will."