Into the Abyss (The Nightslayer Trilogy, Part 2) - Chapter One

The first mistake everyone made when they talked about the Abyss was claiming that it was empty. While chaotic and largely without structure, it was far from empty – a fact that, during her time here, Zoe had had to learn first hand. Thinking about it, it was this lack of emptiness that had allowed her to maintain a hold on her sanity, but, if she didn't find a way out of the Abyss soon, she was certain that she would eventually lose even that meager hold. The Abyss was not meant for people like her – who it was meant for was a question she would rather not think about, as she had met such a person, and was currently his prisoner – and the longer Zoe remained here, the less likely it became that she could ever go back to being who she was supposed to be.

“Thinking about escape, again? Or, perhaps, dreaming of rescue?”

Zoe's captor was the Twisted Sword Priest that had been flung into the Abyss when she'd broken the transit spell he and Atraxos the Black had attempted to use to travel from the Guardian's dwelling to the Mountains of the Moon. He had found her not long after Zoe had woken up here, and had somehow been able to manipulate the chaos around them to fashion a prison in which Zoe's magic was shut off from her, leaving her helpless. Zoe had no idea how long ago that had been – the passage of time had no meaning, here – but it had felt like an eternity, and there was no sign that it would ever end. Unless, of course, she became like him, which she was sure would be what would happen once her grasp on sanity had been lost.

“So what if I was?” Zoe asked, not liking how weak her voice sounded. “We both know neither will ever happen.”

Zoe's captor – his name was Novar, and when he moved, he seemed to trail black smoke that whirled about him as if it were alive – came over to her, crouching down so that his eyes were level with hers. “Then why torture yourself, Sorceress?” he asked. “Why must you continue to cling to things that are no longer within reach when it would be so much easier to give in to the power of this place as I have?”

“If I did that, I'd become like you,” Zoe said. “I could never live with myself if I did that. It would mean betraying too much.”

Novar chuckled and shook his head. “You do understand that neither of us should be alive right now, don't you? Being pulled into this place should have killed us. But it didn't. We are still alive because we're different. We're meant for more. Give in to the chaos, Sorceress. Join with it. Revel in it. Let it make you the goddess you were always meant to be!”

As always, there was temptation in his words. Giving in to the chaos like he suggested – like he pleaded – would bring an end to more than just Zoe's worry about her sanity. It would bring an end to the pain, the pain Novar caused with the implements that hung from the gray, stone walls of the prison, some of which still bore red stains. Every time Zoe refused him, he used those implements on her, and he knew just how to cause her the most pain. The wounds he inflicted healed after each session, but the memory of them remained, and that only enhanced the pain when the time came for him to reopen them. But Zoe could not let herself be broken. She could not!

Knowing it would only lead to another round of torture, Zoe mustered all of the defiance she could and said, “Fuck you.”

It was the first time Zoe had cursed when speaking to Novar, and the Twisted Sword Priest sat back on his haunches, blinking in surprise. Then he grinned, his mouth full of unnaturally sharp teeth. “Later, perhaps,” he said, standing and moving toward the wall, where he took down a blade he had used once before to flay the skin off of Zoe's left arm. Zoe shuddered at the memory – the pain had been unbearable – and then kept shivering, terrified at the thought of what part of her Novar might remove the skin off of, now.

From outside the walls of the prison came a sound like thunder. Frowning, Novar tilted his head to one side, and even Zoe found herself straining her hearing to the limit, hoping against hope to hear the sound – no matter what had caused it – again. When the sound came, again, it was much closer, and the walls of the prison shook. Then one of those walls – which wasn't really made of stone, but, instead, out of nothing but solidified chaos – exploded inward, the force of the explosion throwing Novar against the opposite wall and causing him to lose hold of the cruel, curved blade he had intended to use on Zoe, which clattered to the floor in front of her. Zoe, who suddenly found she could move, bent down and picked up the blade, then took a staggering step toward Novar, who had been knocked unconscious. Not once did she look to see what, or who, had broken into the prison from outside – that didn't matter, at the moment. That didn't matter at all.

“Stop, Zoe!”

Zoe did stop, but not because she wanted to. All she wanted to do was take the blade she held in her hands and use it to chop Novar into pieces, then hope those pieces would reassemble so she could do it all over again. An intense magical spell had seized her, however, making it impossible to get any closer to the Twisted Sword Priest. She could still move in any other direction, just not toward Novar. Zoe turned her head to look at who had spoken. “Let me go,” she growled, surprised at how powerful she felt after feeling so weak only a few minutes earlier.

“And let you butcher him?” Aylander said. “You aren't a butcher, Zoe. At least, you weren't, and I sincerely hope that that hasn't changed. Put the blade down.”

“He tortured me, Aylander,” Zoe said. Hot tears burned in her eyes and she was shaking. “He tortured me!”

“I know he did, and I am truly sorry for it. But butchering him will not change anything he did to you, and could be just the conduit this place needs for its chaos to take you away forever. I can't let that happen. For your sake, and for Thaddeus's.”

Thaddeus! How long had it been since Zoe had seen him last? For that matter, how long had it been since she'd last seen Aylander? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Zoe looked down at the blade in her hands, then dropped it with a sob. Aylander was right. She was no butcher, and she couldn't let herself become one if she ever wanted to see Thaddeus, again. And I have to see Thaddeus, again. He needs me.

Zoe gestured at Novar. “What about him? He's become a part of the Abyss in a way I didn't think was possible, and might even grow to become more dangerous than one of the Demon Lords.”

Aylander smiled. “No need to be concerned about him. I erased his mind. Even if he does become one with the Abyss, he will no longer have any force of will. Which, in essence, means he will be no more dangerous than any other creature that dwells here. Now, come. We need to leave.”

“Where will we go?”

“Away from here. Perhaps we will even find a way out, or make it easier for Thaddeus to find us.”

“Is he looking for us?”

“I have to hope so,”Aylander said after a slight pause. His eyes met hers. “It's the only thing keeping me sane.”

As she left the prison with Aylander, Zoe realized her hold on her sanity had grown stronger. Not only was the Abyss not empty, she was no longer alone within it. And there was the hope that, somewhere in another plane of reality – maybe the one they had originally come from, maybe not – Thaddeus was alive and searching for them. Find us, my love, Zoe thought. Find us.