Thronebreaker: The One Who Devours Names-Chapter 37: The Descent into Darkness

Raen's heart pounded in his chest as the ground beneath him crumbled, his body falling into the abyss. The darkness was suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice, crushing him with an oppressive weight that threatened to swallow his very soul. He could feel the coldness of the void against his skin, the stifling silence pressing in on him as he fell deeper and deeper into the endless chasm.

This is it.

The thought crossed his mind with chilling finality. He had fought, killed, and manipulated his way through countless enemies, traversed impossible landscapes, and shattered the laws of reality itself. But now, there was nothing. Nothing but the endless void and the shadow that loomed over him, waiting to claim him.

The shadow had been there, standing above him, its monstrous form a dark silhouette against the void. Its eyes had burned with a hunger that made the very air tremble. Raen had felt it—felt the weight of the darkness closing in on him, suffocating every thought, every breath.

But even as he fell, Raen's instincts kicked in. He couldn't give up. Not like this.

Not after everything.

With a violent thrust of his arm, Raen reached out, grasping at the empty air. His Shatterborn power surged, twisting and distorting the space around him as he called upon the last reserves of his strength. The abyss resisted, but Raen's will was unyielding.

The darkness that surrounded him seemed to ripple, as if the very fabric of reality was bending in response to his command. But it wasn't enough. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Where is she?

Raen's mind flashed to Lyra, her face—the warmth in her eyes. She had been right there, standing beside him. And now... now she was gone.

A scream tore from his throat, but it was swallowed by the abyss, leaving nothing but the deafening silence.

Suddenly, a ripple of energy spread out from his chest, and for the briefest of moments, Raen's senses sharpened. The feeling of power was overwhelming, like a thousand bolts of lightning coursing through his veins. It was the Shatterborn essence—his birthright—crackling through him, calling to him.

The very space around him seemed to ripple as the power forced its way to the surface. The abyss trembled in response, but there was no escape. No matter how much Raen pushed, how much he strained against the infinite darkness, it closed in on him like the jaws of some unseen predator.

His body was burning with power, but the void was unyielding. The fear, the doubt, the uncertainty—all of it flooded him at once.

Suddenly, everything stopped.

The sensation of falling vanished, and the silence that had once been overwhelming was replaced by a low hum—a rhythmic pulse, like a heartbeat.

Raen blinked, disoriented. He was no longer falling, but standing on solid ground. The oppressive weight of the abyss had lifted, replaced by a strange, almost suffocating stillness.

He looked around, but there was nothing. Only an expanse of blackness, stretching on for eternity in every direction. But... no shadows. No threat.

Raen took a hesitant step forward. The floor beneath his feet was solid, but it felt... wrong. It was as if the very nature of the world had shifted, and he was standing in the remnants of something that had been broken.

In the distance, Raen noticed something—a faint glow in the blackness. A light. It was barely visible, but it was there.

Without thinking, he moved toward it.

As he approached, the light grew brighter, more intense. He could feel its pull, its warmth. It felt like the first breath of air after being submerged underwater. But the closer he got, the more the air around him seemed to distort, warping and bending as though the light was alive—feeding off of him.

Raen's pulse quickened. This wasn't just a light. This was something more. Something familiar.

The air crackled with power as he reached out, his hand trembling. He was about to touch it when a voice rang out, shattering the silence.

"You should've stayed where you were."

Raen froze. The voice was cold, detached—like a whisper on the wind, but it carried an undeniable weight. He knew that voice. He knew it.

Spinning around, Raen's heart sank as the figure appeared before him.

It was Lyra—but not the Lyra he knew.

Her eyes were empty, hollow. Her smile was twisted, cruel. And her presence was... wrong.

"Lyra?" Raen whispered, his voice barely audible as the world seemed to tilt beneath him.

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, as though studying him. "You really are a fool, Raen. All this time, and you still don't understand, do you?"

Raen stepped back, his mind racing. "What are you talking about?"

Lyra's laugh was cold, without humor. "You think you can escape the thread of fate? You think you can run from the gods?" Her voice turned venomous. "You are fate. You've always been. You've always been theirs."

Raen's stomach twisted. The darkness around them seemed to pulse, echoing her words.

"No..." Raen whispered, the realization crashing down on him.

"Yes," she spat, her smile widening unnaturally. "You have already been chosen, Raen. You've always been mine."

And in that moment, everything changed.

The ground beneath him began to crack, splitting wide open. Raen's eyes widened as the light that had been drawing him began to shift, to twist into something darker, something far more dangerous. He reached out, but the light was no longer his ally. It had become a weapon, one that threatened to consume him.

"Lyra, no—" Raen began, but before he could say anything more, the darkness surged around him like a tidal wave.

The light snapped out of existence, leaving Raen in total darkness.

But this time, the shadows were not just surrounding him. They were inside him.

And then, everything went quiet.

-------::;::---

Raen gasped, his eyes wide, but nothing came. The silence was deafening, as though the world itself had gone still. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he was breathing.

A sudden realization hit him like a wave crashing against the shore. He had never been in control. Not of the shadows, not of the power—nothing. He had been the one being controlled all along.

And in the darkness, something else stirred.