The Void :Ascending

The Breaking Point

The air between worlds trembled.

In the vast nothing that was not void but memory, colors bled from one spectrum into another, painting horizons that never ended. Samuel stood at the edge of a glass ridge, the sound of his own breath echoing like thunder in an empty cathedral. Behind him, the witches gathered in uneasy stillness—Ignara with her restless flames flickering at her palms, Zephira cloaked in murmuring wind, Nysara tracing invisible sigils across the shimmer of water at her feet, and Velyd watching with eyes half hidden by illusion’s mist.

Tristan, the warlock of earth, stood apart. The dust around his boots quivered with each heartbeat, and in that trembling Samuel felt both comfort and distance. The two had fought beside one another for days now, yet each exchange of glances left more unsaid than spoken.

Daniel trudged up beside Samuel, sweat glinting on his light-brown skin. “My guy, you sure this place get road?” he muttered, peering into the luminous haze.

Samuel smiled faintly. “No road, no map—just vibes,” he answered, and for a fleeting moment, laughter broke the still tension. Even Zephira’s storm clouds flickered brighter, catching the sound.

Then the laughter died.

The horizon rippled. What first seemed like heat shimmer thickened into shapes—ranks upon ranks of figures forming out of light and shadow. Armor of glass, faces without features, eyes burning with the color of dying suns.

Ignara whispered, “That’s not natural flame.”

“It’s Femi,” Tristan said flatly, fingers closing into fists. Stones rose around him, floating like a crown of miniature moons. “Or what’s left of him.”

The sky screamed.

Light burst apart, birthing the Illusion Army.

They marched soundlessly, each step crushing fragments of reality. Where their blades struck, memory itself bled out—scenes from other worlds flickered and vanished. Samuel felt the pull of their presence, a cold thread winding through his chest, trying to draw his power out of him.

“Positions!” he shouted. “Do not let them touch you—they feed on essence!”

The ground cracked open. Fire roared upward as Ignara unleashed a torrent of crimson flame that seared across the first ranks. Zephira raised both hands, summoning thunder that rolled like an ocean across the wasteland. Bolts of lightning struck with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Nysara swept her arms outward, and water condensed out of air, solidifying into whips that sliced through spectral armor.

Samuel extended his hand. The void answered.

A sphere of shadow bloomed from his palm, drawing the illusions inward, dissolving them into streams of dark light. The effort tore through his veins like frostbite, but he held it, feeling the balance shift—light against nothingness, chaos against calm.

“Nice one, boss!” Daniel yelled, ducking as a blade of flame missed him by inches. He hurled a chunk of broken crystal, surprising even himself when it shattered an enemy’s mask. “See me now—I get aim!”

“Focus, Daniel!” Samuel called, though he grinned despite himself.

Then the air ignited.

A second sun tore open above them, golden and furious. The Phoenix descended, wings spanning the horizon, every feather a burning comet. Opposite her, chaos itself uncoiled—scarlet energy woven through with darkness. Wanda hovered beside her sister, eyes glowing, fingers sketching impossible geometries in mid-air.

“Jean…” Samuel breathed. “Wanda…”

The witches staggered under the weight of their arrival. Even the illusions paused, as if in reverence.

“You should not have gathered them, little brother,” Jean’s voice echoed like molten light. “The balance was never meant to be yours.”

“And yet you seek to hold it,” Wanda added, her tone both sorrowful and sharp. “Always the middle child—always the bridge. Bridges break first.”

Tristan stepped forward, earth swirling around him. “We don’t have time for your family drama!”

Jean’s gaze snapped to him; Tristan flinched as the air itself began to melt. Samuel threw himself between them, void shielding flaring. “He’s right,” he said. “If you want balance, fight what’s breaking it. Look!”

He gestured to the horizon, where the Illusion Army multiplied, stretching farther than sight. For a moment, both sisters turned—and their fire and chaos clashed as they attacked the phantom host together. The wasteland became a kaleidoscope of destruction: flame devouring shadow, red hex-storms unraveling illusions.

The ground vanished under the force of it

The cosmic wasteland convulsed beneath the weight of the Phoenix and the Chaos.

Flame and scarlet storm carved mountains out of light; the air itself screamed with energy too old for mortals to name. Every spell struck like thunder inside a cathedral. Samuel’s void shields shimmered, flickering under pressure, the balance within him threatening to fracture.

“Hold the line!” he shouted, though the sound barely carried over the roar of collapsing stars.

Tristan answered by slamming both palms into the fractured ground. Pillars of stone erupted upward, weaving into jagged walls that shielded the group. Ignara’s fire bent to Samuel’s command, forming serpents of living flame that devoured Femi’s illusions, while Zephira hurled winds sharp as blades.

Still the Illusion Army re-formed. Every fallen shadow became two more.

“They’re endless,” Nysara gasped, drawing water from the very void to whip across the field. “They feed on what we destroy.”

Samuel’s power flared again—void and light colliding in his chest. The storm of their battle had begun to twist around him; he could feel the sisters’ power tugging at his essence, as if even the Phoenix and the Chaos wanted to see which side he would choose.

A deafening crack split the sky.

The sisters turned, twin goddesses mirrored in fury. Jean’s wings burned white-gold, Wanda’s energy a crimson halo.

“Stand down, Samuel!” Wanda called, her voice shaking the stars themselves.

“You’ll unmake what little balance remains,” Jean added, sorrow in her tone.

Samuel’s laughter was short and breathless. “Balance doesn’t exist until someone fights for it!”

He drove his hands outward. The void burst open around him, swallowing a hundred illusions in silence. The recoil threw him to his knees. Tristan caught his shoulder before he fell completely; their eyes met for a heartbeat in the chaos.

“i***t,” Tristan muttered. “You’ll kill yourself doing that.”

Samuel managed a grin. “Then at least I’d go out in style.”

Even in battle, a spark of humor survived. Tristan’s answering glare couldn’t hide the worry behind it.

A new sound rolled across the battlefield—a note like a bell struck underwater.

From the horizon came a shimmer, a wave of silver light cutting through the endless army.

A figure stepped from it, robes fluttering like banners, hair gleaming with its own radiance.

“Lyra,” Samuel breathed.

She looked unchanged and yet older, as if time had crowned her with the weight of knowing. Her realm’s energy clung to her—cool and luminous, bending reality where she walked. Without hesitation, she lifted both arms and unleashed a torrent of light that burned through the nearest ranks of illusions, searing them into vapor.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” she said with a faint smile.

Relief and sorrow warred in Samuel’s chest. He wanted to speak, but there was no time. The illusions surged again, a black tide rushing to drown them all.

Lyra moved like a star given form—every gesture a blade of brilliance, every word a weapon. For a moment the battle turned; even the Phoenix paused to watch. Then a ripple of darker energy tore through the field, a spear of pure shadow aimed for Samuel’s heart.

He never saw it. Lyra did.

She moved faster than thought, intercepting the strike. The impact flared blindingly; when the light cleared, she was on her knees, a wound of darkness spreading through her chest like ink.

“No!” Samuel reached her side, void energy flaring wildly.

“Don’t waste it,” she whispered, smiling through the pain. “You have to finish this. Find the center. End the dream.”

He caught her hand; her light flickered, then dissolved into motes that drifted upward like ash into the endless sky.

The silence after her passing was immense. Even the illusions hesitated, as if mourning.

Tristan knelt beside Samuel, one hand steady on his shoulder. “She chose her end,” he said quietly.

Samuel’s throat tightened. “Then I’ll make sure it matters.”

Their eyes met again; the world seemed to pause. In that stillness, amidst ruin and grief, understanding passed between them—unspoken, deep as the void itself.

The sky cracked again, snapping the moment apart.

The Phoenix and Chaos hovered above, faces unreadable.

“Your choice defines you, brother,” Wanda said softly. “But even balance can break.”

The sisters turned, their combined power sweeping across the battlefield. With one shared motion, they burned away the remaining illusions, leaving only dust and the echo of their power.

Then they were gone—vanishing into the glare of their own creation, leaving silence behind.

Samuel stood slowly, Tristan beside him, Daniel and the others gathering amid the ruins. The cosmic wasteland lay shattered, chunks of broken reality floating in a sea of light.

It was over—yet the quiet felt wrong, as if something waited just beyond sight

The dust of broken worlds hung thick in the air.

The battle had ended, but the silence that followed was heavier than any war cry. Fragments of shattered realms drifted around them — glowing islands of stone, glimmering with what remained of the Phoenix and the Chaos’ power.

Samuel stood at the center of it all, his cloak torn, eyes hollow with loss.

The last trace of Lyra’s light had vanished into the void, leaving behind only the faintest hum in the air — as though the universe itself mourned her.

Daniel limped toward him, his once-brown jacket now gray with ash.

“Guy,” he said quietly, voice thick. “This one no be small thing o.”

A weak chuckle escaped Samuel despite himself.

“You’re still talking like we’re in Abuja traffic,” he muttered.

Daniel gave a crooked grin. “Battle or traffic — danger na danger.”

Even Tristan almost smiled at that, though the moment died as his gaze swept the field. “She’s really gone,” he said softly.

Samuel nodded once, throat tight.

“She saved me,” he murmured. “She saved all of us.”

The group stood in silence until a sound broke the stillness — a rhythm of measured footsteps, calm and deliberate.

Out of the haze walked a man draped in pale blue and silver. His face was serene, his eyes dark and endless as starlit water. His hair was streaked with silver, though his youth was untouched. He carried no weapon, only a staff that pulsed faintly with light.

“Rashid,” Tristan said under his breath.

The man smiled faintly. “Still alive, I see.”

Samuel turned to face him. “You… were with the Celestial Orders. I thought you were dead.”

“Dead?” Rashid’s smile deepened. “Not yet. Though death and I have spoken many times.”

He stopped beside Samuel, looking out across the ruined wasteland. “You held them off longer than anyone thought possible. The Phoenix and the Chaos both.”

“I didn’t win,” Samuel said bitterly. “Lyra’s gone. The sisters— they’ll come back. And the illusions… they weren’t even real. Just shadows.”

“Even shadows have purpose,” Rashid replied. “They reveal where the light stands.”

His calm voice carried weight — like the whisper of a teacher who had seen too much.

The others gathered closer, listening.

Rashid knelt and pressed his palm to the ground. Energy rippled outward — faint, balanced, perfect. The air grew still, as if obeying him.

“You’ve lost more than most could endure,” he said, looking up at Samuel. “But the void within you — it is not a curse. It’s a mirror. It reflects what the universe hides.”

Samuel frowned. “A mirror?”

Rashid nodded. “Your sisters burn with creation and destruction. You, Samuel, are what binds both. You are the still point — the breath between the flame and the chaos. Without you, there is no balance.”

The void energy pulsed faintly around Samuel, echoing Rashid’s words.

He could feel it again — not as emptiness, but as quiet harmony.

Tristan stepped closer, arms crossed. “And what? You expect him to just… fix the universe with a deep breath?”

Rashid actually smiled. “Perhaps not today. But soon, yes.”

Daniel scratched his head. “Omo, you people too like talk wey dey give person headache.”

That drew a genuine laugh from the group — small, tired, but real.

Even Samuel felt something loosen inside him. For the first time in what felt like ages, the void didn’t hum with pain.

But Rashid’s expression shifted. The humor faded, replaced by something distant, sad.

“There’s something else,” he said quietly. “A shadow still moving beneath all this. I’ve felt it since before your battle began.”

“You mean Femi,” Samuel said flatly.

Rashid’s gaze darkened. “Yes. His reach has grown far beyond what you think. The illusions you fought weren’t summoned by him directly — they were echoes of his will. He’s learning to bend entire realms through thought alone.”

Tristan exhaled sharply. “So he was here. Watching.”

“Always watching,” Rashid confirmed. “And waiting for you to fall.”

He looked up toward the broken horizon. “He’ll move soon. When he does, none of us will be ready.”

Samuel’s jaw tightened. “Then we prepare.”

Rashid met his gaze — a quiet intensity there. “You prepare by understanding. Power is nothing without purpose. And your purpose… is to end the cycle the trinity began.”

The silence that followed was heavy, prophetic.

Samuel finally said, “You sound like you already know how this ends.”

“I do,” Rashid said softly. “And that’s why I won’t be there to see it.”

Before Samuel could ask, Rashid raised a hand. Light began to pour from him — not blinding, but pure, steady, beautiful.

“Rashid—”

“Every balance must be maintained,” he said. “This realm will collapse without an anchor. Someone must hold it long enough for you to leave.”

Samuel’s voice cracked. “You can’t—”

“I must.”

He smiled one last time — peaceful, almost joyful.

“You’ve made me proud, Samuel. Tell the world I was right about the void.”

Then his body dissolved into light, spreading outward like dawn. The floating shards of broken reality stilled, bound together by his sacrifice.

Samuel stood frozen, hand outstretched toward the fading glow.

Tristan’s voice was quiet behind him. “He… he’s gone.”

Samuel nodded slowly, eyes wet. “No. He’s part of it now.”

The wind moved again, gentle and strange. Somewhere far away, a faint echo of laughter — Femi’s laughter — threaded through the air.

The group turned, scanning the horizon. Nothing moved. Yet the feeling lingered — the sense of being seen.

Tristan took a step closer to Samuel. “We’ll face him together,” he said.

Samuel looked at him — tired, hollow, but smiling faintly. “That’s the plan.”

Above them, the sky fractured once more, revealing something vast stirring behind it — like the silhouette of a god waking from a long dream.

The next storm was coming.

Perfect — let’s close this story the way an epic should end.

Here is the final chapter of your saga, written in mythic, cinematic prose — no explicit content, but full of power, atmosphere, and emotion.

The wasteland was quiet.

Ash drifted like dying snow, and the stars above burned dim — trembling in a sky stretched too thin by power. The air smelled of smoke and something older, something tired. Samuel stood at the center of it all, the glow of the void pulsing faintly in his hands. Tristan leaned against a broken monolith, bruised but breathing. Daniel sat nearby, holding his ribs, eyes still flickering faintly with the gold of the resonance that had almost saved them all.

The silence didn’t last.

A ripple tore through the air, a whisper before the storm — then a column of black-gold light erupted from the horizon. Femi stepped out of it as though emerging from a dream. His eyes were not human anymore; they gleamed with the reflection of entire galaxies turning inside them.

“Still alive,” he said softly, voice calm, almost fond. “Good. It would’ve been boring otherwise.”

Samuel squared his shoulders. “You don’t have to do this.”

Femi’s smile sharpened. “Oh, but I do. Power demands to be used, Samuel. It doesn’t rest — it expands.”

Tristan moved between them. His cloak was torn, dust caked across his face, but his voice was steady. “You’ve done enough, Femi. Leave before I bury you myself.”

“Ah, the warlock.” Femi tilted his head. “So grounded. So loyal.”

The air cracked. Tristan struck first — the ground shuddering as spires of stone shot upward like spears. Femi swept his arm, and they turned to dust before touching him. Tristan roared, summoning an avalanche of rock and root, but Femi blurred forward. A pulse of shadow hit Tristan square in the chest, throwing him across the field.

“Tristan!” Samuel shouted.

The warlock groaned, trying to rise, but Femi was already there — his hand pressed against Tristan’s sternum. “I admire your resolve,” he said, almost kindly. “But this is beyond you.”

A wave of energy burst outward, and Tristan crumpled, unconscious.

“Stop!” Samuel’s voice thundered across the plain.

Femi turned lazily toward him. “You can’t stop what’s already begun.”

Daniel ran forward, desperation in every step. “Leave him alone!”

Femi flicked his wrist, and Daniel froze mid-stride. “A mortal,” Femi said, almost amused. “How quaint.”

But Daniel didn’t stop. His eyes blazed gold, his veins alight. He screamed, and the air screamed with him — sound and light merging into one. The ground cracked underfoot as an invisible shockwave surged from him.

Femi’s smile faltered.

“What are you?” he whispered.

Daniel’s voice echoed like a dozen layered chords. “I am a friend of the harbinger of shadows and nothingness personified,I am a friend of the void. You forgot what that means.”

The next wave hit Femi squarely, knocking him backward. For an instant, he looked startled — truly startled — before his anger rekindled. His aura darkened.

“Enough!”

Shadow consumed the light. Daniel was flung across the field, landing near Tristan. The glow around him dimmed, but he was still breathing.

Samuel felt the void inside him pulse. His vision blurred, his chest heavy with fury and grief. When he stepped forward, the ground dimmed beneath his feet.

“You hurt them,” he said quietly. “You destroyed everything we tried to build.”

“I revealed the truth,” Femi replied. “Creation requires destruction. Even your precious void knows that.”

The air thickened. Samuel’s body trembled — not with fear, but with power. The void rose inside him like a storm breaking its chains.

“You want destruction?” he said. “Fine. Let’s see how you handle balance.”

He opened his hands.

A surge of nothingness spread outward, swallowing color and sound alike. It wasn’t darkness — it was absence, an erasure so pure it bent the stars. Femi raised a hand to counter, but the void struck him head-on, flinging him backward into the broken horizon.

For a moment, the world was white.

When the light faded, Femi stood again. His robe was torn, his crown of energy flickering, but he was smiling.

“Well done,” he said. “You’ve become exactly what I hoped — a brother worthy of opposition.”

He lifted his hand, and from the void behind him rose a throne — jagged, black-gold, carved from the remnants of shattered realms. Energy gathered around his head, shaping into a new crown — one that pulsed with shadow and light both.

“The Shadow Crown,” Samuel whispered.

Femi sat upon the throne, eyes gleaming. “Balance,” he said softly. “How boring. Chaos is alive, brother. And so am I.”

He raised his hand. The sky bled crimson as the stars bent toward him, their light feeding the crown. Wind tore through the wasteland.

Samuel shielded his face. “What have you done?”

Femi laughed — low, melodic, terrifying. “I’ve begun again. You think this was an ending? Oh, Samuel…”

He stood, the throne dissolving behind him. The light around him folded inward, forming a doorway of pure shadow.

“…I’ll be back,” he said, stepping through. “And next time, I won’t just destroy your world — I’ll rewrite it.”

The portal closed. Silence fell.

Ash drifted again through the air.

Tristan stirred, groaning softly and softly half hug Samuel. Daniel sat up, clutching his chest. Samuel stood alone for a long time, watching the horizon where femi had vanished.

Above them, a single star flickered back to life.

He turned toward it, voice low but steady. “Then I’ll be ready.”

The wind carried his words into the void.

TO BE CONTINUEDxxxxxxxxxxxx