Fragment of the Abyss"

The sound of Liora's boots echoed through the dark, silent corridor, ringing like an irrevocable sentence. Azrael followed a few steps behind her, each of his steps firm, but his mind was engulfed in a whirlwind of confused thoughts and restrained emotions. The corridor seemed alive, the black stone walls pulsing with ancient symbols, as if the place itself was breathing — filled with memories, secrets, and hidden intentions.

The air was heavy, dense, almost suffocating, as if time itself dragged on, trapped between past and future, life and death. Azrael gripped the pendant hanging around his neck, a shapeless metal fragment that vibrated faintly with a familiar energy, almost comforting in this alien environment.

He tried to push away the memories that ambushed him without warning: the green field bathed in sunlight, the smell of recent rain, the distant sound of his mother's voice, Liora's muffled laughter — his sister, his other half, now so distant. He no longer knew who the man reflected in his memories was — was it him, or just an echo? A broken fragment dissolving into the void.

"Liora," his voice cut the silence like a sharp blade. "Where are we going?"

She didn't hesitate, nor did she slow down.

"To see our father."

The weight of the word made the air around them feel even colder.

Azrael raised an eyebrow, an ironic smile drawing on his lips.

"Curious… I don't remember him caring about me before."

"He doesn't care," Liora replied with cutting coldness. "But he cares about what you represent. And that's infinitely more dangerous."

He observed her firm step, her upright posture, her unshakable, almost merciless expression.

"Looks like I'm going to be weighed on the scales," he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Always has been," she said, without looking back.

They reached a vast hall of dark stone, where the light was sucked in rather than reflected, and ancient symbols carved into the steps glowed with a pale, ghostly aura. At the center, on a throne of black marble, sat him.

Veyrion Morvain.

The patriarch.

The man who embodied coldness, absolute authority, the crushing weight of a legacy without mercy.

He dressed simply, but his presence was imposing, as heavy as the invisible chains that bound Azrael to this world.

Veyrion's golden eyes, deep and unfathomable, cast a direct gaze at Azrael, as if trying to pierce his soul, unveil his deepest secrets and true nature. It was a gaze that burned, but showed no emotion — only cold curiosity, an implacable judgment.

Liora stopped at the right side of the throne, bowing slightly in respect. Azrael stood, defying the formality, refusing to bow before the man who was more shadow than father.

"Insolent," Veyrion murmured, his voice as cold as the marble of the hall. "Always was. Since you were a child."

Azrael held his gaze steady, his voice calm but charged with contained tension.

"I thought you would be waiting for me."

"Don't confuse expectation with hope," Veyrion replied, as one speaks of an inevitable storm. "Some returns are just confirmations of failures."

The silence that followed was dense, almost tangible, filling the space between them like a thick fog. Azrael felt his throat dry, but he did not back down.

"I didn't ask to come back," he said with harsh honesty.

Veyrion interlaced his fingers beneath his chin, studying him carefully.

"And yet, you returned. That worries me more than it comforts."

Azrael took a deep breath, trying to anchor himself in that moment, in that threatening presence, and answered:

"The voice brought me. It showed me the way."

A sneer twisted Veyrion's lips.

"Oh, yes. The so-called 'voice.' Every fool believes the first whisper that promises him a destiny."

Liora remained motionless, her eyes cold and hard as ice. Azrael noticed the slight tightening of her lips — she knew that voice, but refused to believe what it represented.

"Then say what you want," Azrael asked, his voice firm. "I'm not here to dance before veiled judgments."

Veyrion leaned forward, the pale light reflecting in his relentless eyes.

"Very well. You are a variable. A piece that fell off the board and returned with a different game in hand. Before deciding if you still belong to House Morvain, I want to know what you intend to do with this power you barely understand."

"I don't know yet," Azrael replied, a spark of determination growing in his gaze. "But I know what I don't want."

"Say it."

"To be a shadow. An echo of you or her."

He glanced at Liora, who showed no reaction.

"I'm not here to fit in. If I stay, it will be to change something."

Veyrion studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching like a rope about to snap.

"Arrogance. Pride. Impulsiveness," he said, slowly standing. "I expected to find something new in you, but maybe that's what we need."

Liora broke the silence.

"He can be useful. As long as he learns where he's stepping."

Veyrion nodded.

"You will have a chance, Azrael. A test. Something that reveals who you really are — not who you think you are."

Azrael smiled, a cold and calculating smile.

"I don't expect mercy. But I expect them to watch when I pass. Because after that, no one will forget me."

The air seemed to grow heavier as they left the room. Azrael felt the corridor grow darker, narrower, and the invisible pressure intensify.

He walked behind Liora, but now something had changed.

"Still protective, aren't you?" he murmured.

She stopped, without turning.

"If I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open."

"Good," Azrael replied. "I never slept well anyway."

She said nothing more and resumed walking.

Azrael remained standing for a moment, the clear sensation that, from that moment on, every step he took would lead him deeper into that game of power and secrets.

But this time, he knew he would play by his own rules.

The winding corridors of the mansion seemed a labyrinth carrying more than just stone and shadow — they carried stories, betrayals, and broken promises. As he walked, Azrael couldn't help but let his mind wander to the distant past, to the life he had left behind.

The boy who ran through sunlit fields, felt the wind on his face, and heard the joyful laughter of a stolen childhood seemed like a distant memory, almost a dream from another life. Now, he was trapped in a world where the rules were different, and where the weight of blood and lineage shaped destiny like a sharp blade.

The voice still echoed in his mind — a tempting yet threatening invitation. It promised power, answers, and a future, but also brought doubts and a deep fear of the unknown.

Liora walked ahead, her posture firm and her expression unwavering, contrasting with the storm consuming Azrael.

"Why are you so harsh with me?" Azrael finally asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. "We were always siblings. Shouldn't we protect each other?"

Liora stopped abruptly, turning to face him with cold, piercing eyes.

"Protect? " Her voice was harsh, loaded with bitterness. "Here, weakness is an invitation to death. You don't understand what's at stake."

Azrael felt the blow of that statement.

"And you? What are you afraid of?"

She hesitated for a moment, then answered with raw honesty.

"Losing control. Letting everything fall apart."

They continued to a massive iron door where Liora knocked three times, the sound heavy and echoing.

The door opened, revealing a large room lit by flickering candles.

Seated in a carved wooden chair was Veyrion Morvain, the patriarch. His face was marked by time and battles, and his eyes held a mix of severity and appraisal.

"Patriarch Veyrion," Liora said formally.

Azrael felt the weight of the man's gaze settle on him like a sentence.

"Azrael," Veyrion's hoarse voice cut the silence. "You have finally arrived."

Azrael stood firm.

"I came to hear what you have to say."

Veyrion walked to a table strewn with maps and documents.

"Your return is no accident. This world is changing, and you may be the key to House Morvain's future."

Azrael furrowed his brow.

"If I am the key, why have you treated me like dead weight?"

The patriarch stared at him harshly.

"Because power demands sacrifices. The House must survive, no matter the cost."

Liora crossed her arms, an ironic smile appearing on her lips.

"You will learn that quickly."

Azrael took a deep breath.

"So tell me: what test must I pass?"

Veyrion smiled, a cold and emotionless smile.

"A trial by fire. Prove your strength, intelligence, and loyalty. Only then will you earn your place."

Azrael felt the challenge in the air.

"I am ready. But beware: I expect no mercy."

Silence fell like a heavy cloud over the room.