Chapter 1 – The Curse of the Forgotten
"The gods erase what they fear. The forgotten are proof of their failure."
— Whisper of the Abyss
In the downtrodden abyss, where skulls quaked and whispered with hollow laughter, she lay.
Appolyth.
The lost mother of the forgotten. A fallen deity in this world, though once hailed as an angel in her own. Bound in chains older than mountains, carved with scriptures that even gods feared to read, she lingered at the edge of nothingness.
Her eyes opened.
Not one, but two pupils glared into the darkness—an omen and a curse. In one eye burned the etching of runes that crawled like living fire; in the other, twin pupils pierced like daggers into the unseen.
The abyss itself recoiled.
Her voice was no whisper—it was a tremor, an echo that rattled the marrow of every dead thing buried in that pit.
"Son…"
The word hung, both tender and dreadful, dripping with power that had once moved heavens and split seas.
"Awake from your slumber. Though it may tarry, fight against fate itself… for your existence is already a defiance. Against gods. Against chains. Against the forgotten who slumber in silence."
The abyss stirred. Skulls cracked open as dust spiraled like a storm. From the earth, a pulse beat once, twice, then thundered—an ancient heart refusing to die.
And somewhere, in the depths of darkness, a child's breath returned.
The Scion had heard his mother's