DAEDILLION
I heard its whispers first—ancient, hungry, void-made-voice. Tendrils of absence weaving between atoms. The Abyss never approached with thunder. Only silence. Always silence. Like the moment between a final heartbeat and the acknowledgment of its finality.
It found me alone—deliberate on my part, necessary. The triumvirate bond still raw, electric. Their mingled essences lingering in my veins. Aiko's dragon fire. Eron's crown-light. Young. So young. Children playing with cosmic forces.
(I was old when stars were young.)
"Death walks alone again," the Abyss murmured, its voice emerging from nowhere and everywhere. "As it always has. As it always will."
I didn't bother turning. Knew better. The Abyss wore no fixed form. Was absence shaped like desire. Hunger disguised as fulf
