The oppressive silence of Nyx's inner world was broken only by the slow pulse of dark energy that echoed through the void. The gravity was unbearable for most mortals, but for Alex, it was familiar—like the weight of expectation and ambition pressing on his shoulders.
The black platform stretched endlessly in every direction. Shadows twisted at the edge of his vision, stretching and folding like ink in water. Above him, far in the abyss, the throne of Nyx loomed. And now, she stood—not in her throne, but before him.
Nyx held a sword.
Its edge was midnight, glimmering with the light of distant stars trapped in the blade. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her eyes met his, and in that moment, the challenge was clear.
Alex narrowed his gaze, tightening his grip on his own blade. The air trembled as the two figures stood still—an unspoken countdown ticking between them.
And then they vanished.
