The gates remained unmoved as they drew closer.
They recognized her.
As Ayama stepped forward, the black pillars trembled, ancient sigils flickering across its surface like something awakening from dormancy. The blood-streaked sky above churned slowly, as if the realm itself were breathing in anticipation.
"We cannot pass before you," the first said quietly.
They parted.
She studied the gates. They were immense, two formidable figurines carved from a mineral darker than obsidian and forced to come alive in the shape of a Qilin and the other of a Dragon, their eyes shined red as crimson light ran through their carved veins that pulsed like arteries. The air here was thick, heavy with sulphur and something far older than death.
Her bare feet touched the scorched earth as she stepped closer. With every step, a light rumbling could be felt. The tall gate split with a grinding sound and opened slowly.
As she stepped forward, she looked back, a blank expression plastered on her face.
Behind her, the void that had imprisoned her for a thousand years remained silent, it no longer laid claim over her existence.
She stepped through.
The sky was wrong.
Behind her was pure darkness, but before her were rays of red.
It stretched endlessly above her in shades of dark crimson and black, as if stained by an eternal dusk. No sun. No stars. Only a swirling mass of cloud and energy that pulsed faintly, like a red lightening breathing overhead.
The ground beneath her feet was cracked obsidian, veins of dim red light running through it like molten lava.
And before her, stood a vast empire. It was not made of gold or marble, but of bone, shadow, and towering black structures that spiralled unnaturally into the sky. Massive pillars carved with faces of forgotten beings lined a path that led toward a distant citadel
Rivers of molten light danced through black valleys. Floating platforms drifted above chasms filled with wailing spirits that flew by aimlessly.
She was led down a never-ending hallway, as the footsteps of the two clattered and echoed through the hall, they entered the room.
All of them paused the moment she entered.
Silence spread.
One by one they knelt, the pressure filling the room as she walked.
A ripple of submission that stretched farther than her eyes could follow.
Ayama stopped.
Her gaze sharpened.
"What is this?" she asked, her voice low but steady.
The two figures who had guided her dropped to one knee before her, their heads bowed deeply.
"My Queen," the first said.
The word settled heavily in the air.
Ayama's expression darkened. "Don't call me that."
The second figure lifted his head slightly, just enough to meet her gaze.
"We do not speak out of assumption," he said carefully. "We speak by law."
Ayama's eyes narrowed in confusion.
"What law?"
The first demon inhaled slowly, as though choosing his words with care.
"The Infernal Realm does not choose rulers by blood… nor by lineage," he said. "It chooses by Dominion of Abyssal Essence."
Ayama said nothing.
The term was unfamiliar to her.
Seeing this, the second continued.
"The energy you cultivated within the void… what you absorbed over your time there… it is not ordinary spiritual energy."
He hesitated.
"It is called Abyssal Essence, chaotic and dark residue of broken souls, failed immortals, corrupted cultivators… and creatures erased from the cycle of reincarnation."
Ayama's fingers twitched slightly at her side.
She remembered.
The drifting remnants of fragments that brushed against her hollow core.
"The void and it's chains works in two ways," the first demon continued, "It either consume those with souls until they wither away, or it forcefully enters the soulless until their core can't absorb anymore and they implode and cease to exist'
"No being is meant to survive prolonged exile in Abyssal Void."
A pause.
"None… except you."
Ayama's gaze hardened. "Why?"
Neither answered immediately and their hesitation told her everything.
"You don't know," she said flatly.
The second demon lowered his head further.
"We know how it happened, but why, we cannot answer."
Silence stretched between them.
Then the first spoke again, more carefully this time.
"The void you were cast into is not meant to imprison the living," he said. "It is meant to erase existence. Every soul placed there is meant to wither… dissolve… and cease, never to reincarnate and exist through the realms of time."
Ayama's expression remained unreadable.
"You were supposed to die," he said quietly.
A flicker of something dangerous passed through her eyes.
"But instead," he continued, "your… condition made you an anomaly."
Her voice dropped. "What condition?"
The second demon answered this time.
"Your soul is shattered, that we can tell, but you have two fragments, one, a small piece of what you had, originally, that only would have allowed the void to consume you, though it would have been painful, over time you would have ceased to exist, but there is something, a microscopic fragment of another soul that is tethered to your own."
"Small, but strong enough to consume the energy that was forced into you, refine it and feed it to your remaining fragment. You now have a phantom soul, help together by two fragments not of the same nature"
The words struck deeper than they should have.
Ayama did not react outwardly, but the tension in the air shifted.
"They fractured you during the ritual," he continued. "They divided your soul and distributed its fragments among themselves. Leaving you with just enough for the void to consume it"
Ayama's jaw tightened.
She already knew that.
She had felt it.
"Most beings would collapse," he said. "Without a complete soul, there is no foundation to sustain existence."
A pause.
"But the two fragments refined you a new soul out of Abyssal Essence."
The realization settled slowly.
The hollow core they had created.
"That emptiness…" the first demon said, his voice lowering, "became a vessel."
Ayama's gaze lifted toward the dark sky.
"And that vessel is now filled with the remnants of the void" he finished.
They led her through the vast expanse of the castle.
Every step she took, the ground seemed to respond faintly, as though acknowledging her presence.
Creatures bowed.
Shadows recoiled.
By the time they reached the citadel, Ayama understood one thing clearly.
This place already belonged to her.
They ascended a long staircase carved from black stone, each step etched with ancient markings. At the top stood a throne.
A structure of jagged obsidian and bone, as though it had been formed rather than built.
Ayama stopped before it.
"This is unnecessary," she said.
The first demon shook his head.
"It is not."
He stepped forward slightly.
"For thirty-five years, the Umbral Abyss has been without a ruler."
Ayama's gaze flickered.
"The previous king vanished," he continued. "No death. No succession. No trace."
"And in his absence," the second added, "the realm has been unstable."
Ayama looked at the throne again.
"You're telling me," she said slowly, "that because I absorbed enough of this… Abyssal Essence…"
She turned back to them.
"I become your ruler?"
The first demon lowered his head fully.
"Not by our will."
"By the realm's recognition." The other finished.
Silence lingered.
Ayama said nothing for a long moment, until a ripple of laughter left her lips.
"After a thousand years in chains…" she murmured, "this is what I wake up to?"
Her gaze darkened.
"A throne?"
She hung her head in exhaustion.
"I'm not too sure what any of this means…" she said quietly "but one thing for sure is, they lived well."
Ayama's eyes sharpened.
"They eat. They drink. They laugh."
Her voice dropped further.
"They reincarnate… again and again, for a thousand years."
The temperature around them seemed to fall.
"I watched them, every lifetime, every lover, every dynasty and era. Every death, but none cruel enough for their betrayal." She chimed.
"I watched them, as they built, their success on my suffering." Her lips curved slightly.
Not in kindness, but pure hatred.
"I want it back! Every piece of it!" Like a verdict, the words left her mouth, a vow to never be broken.
The two demons bowed deeper.
The first said, "your will is the realm's command."
Ayama turned away from the throne, her expression calm once more, but her eyes burned.
"I need to return to the mortal realm," she said.
A pause.
"But I cannot as I am now, They will recognize me."
The second demon nodded.
"Yes," he said. "Your current form carries the imprint of Abyssal Essence. Any cultivator, or those bound to your soul fragments will sense you immediately."
Ayama's gaze sharpened. "Then I need a way around that." She paced.
The two exchanged a glance, a worried but knowing look.
Then the first spoke.
"There is… an artifact."
Ayama turned quickly, her body moving with expectation as she marched towards the.
"In the depths of our Realm lies a forbidden relic known as the Veil of Ten Thousand Faces."
The name lingered in the air.
"It allows its wielder to assume any form they desire," he continued. "Not an illusion, but true transformation. Flesh, aura, presence… even spiritual signals."
Ayama's interest sharpened.
"Where?"
The second demon hesitated.
"A place only one being, our previous king returned from" He met her gaze.
"Tell me!" she demaned.
"The Scorching Waters of the Red Souls."