Chapter 23 The Abyss Cathedral
The desert no longer slept. For seven nights after the appearance of the Black Suns, the dunes of western Baalania shifted constantly like waves upon a dead ocean. Entire armies disappeared into the sands without sound while ancient ruins continued rising from beneath the earth every hour: black towers, shattered necropolises buried temples older than memory itself.
And beneath all of itsomething called endlessly from the deep.
The war had stopped.
Not officially.
No treaties had been signed.
No surrender declared.
But both Vahsravia and Baalania now fought only to survive the horrors unleashed beneath the cursed deserts.Demons hunted openly through ruined battlefields.
Eldritch creatures wandered ancient canyon cities beneath the seven black suns.
Even Mehmeth’s fanatics whispered fearful prayers now. Because Baalania itself had become haunted.
Three days after the Night of Black Suns,the earth opened again.
A colossal sinkhole swallowed an entire inferno fortress near the Valley of Qarith during the dead hours before dawn. Witnesses claimed the sands collapsed inward silently before vanishing into endless darkness below.
No explosion. No screams.
Only disappearance.
By sunrise something impossible stood revealed beneath the desert.
An entire cathedral.
Buried beneath the world.
Dragun arrived first alongside Zerafin, Tenji, Mordecai, and a heavily armed eastern expedition force.
Even the Vampire King stopped walking upon seeing it.
The sinkhole stretched for miles across the desert floor, exposing gigantic black spires descending into impossible depths below. Ancient bridges and towers emerged from the surrounding cliffs while moonlight from the blackened heavens reflected across polished obsidian architecture untouched by time.
It resembled a kingdom entombed alive beneath the sands.
A dead empire sleeping in darkness.
And at its center stood the Abyss Cathedral.
The structure dwarfed every fortress ever built by man.
Gigantic gothic towers spiraled downward instead of upward, disappearing into the depths beneath the earth like inverted mountains carved from black marble and silver stone. Massive stained-glass windows depicting crimson moons remained perfectly intact despite being buried for centuries.
Or millennia. No one could tell anymore.
The strangest thing was the light.
No sunlight reached the buried cathedral.
Yet pale silver moonlight illuminated the entire underground abyss softly from nowhere.
Cold. Beautiful. Dead.
Father Lucian stared downward into the sinkhole in disbelief.
“…This architecture…”
His voice echoed faintly through the abyss.
“It’s impossible.”
Because he recognized it.
Not Baalanian.
Not human.
Vampiric.
Ancient statues lined the cathedral walls: pale kings draped in ceremonial armor, queens with crowns shaped like wings and monstrous knights kneeling beside thrones of obsidian and bone.
Many statues possessed familiar symbols. The moon sigil of Vahsravia.
Zerafin gripped his sword tightly.
“This place belonged to our kind.”
“No,” Tenji whispered softly.
The Fairy stood near the cliff edge staring into the abyss below with pale unreadable eyes.
“It belonged to what came before your kind.”
A silence followed. Heavy. Uncomfortable.
Then Dragun stepped forward.
“You knew this place existed.”
Tenji did not answer immediately.
Shadow crows circled slowly above the abyss while distant whispers echoed upward from the buried cathedral below.
Finally the Fairy nodded once.
“The Sky People built prisons beneath the world after the First Age ended.”
Lucian frowned.
“Prisons for what?”
Tenji looked toward the cathedral depths.
“For kings.”
The expedition descended shortly afterward.
Massive black stairways spiraled downward through the buried abyss while silver lanterns illuminated endless gothic corridors beneath the earth.
The deeper they traveled
the colder the world became.
Not natural cold.
Ancient cold.
The kind found inside graves forgotten by time itself.
The cathedral interior resembled a holy city.
Enormous black marble halls stretched endlessly beneath vaulted ceilings decorated with silver celestial carvings while giant chandeliers hung suspended above bottomless darkness.
Every surface reflected moonlight unnaturally.
Even buried beneath miles of desert
the cathedral remained bathed in pale lunar glow.
And everywhere there were coffins.
Thousands of them.
Stone sarcophagi lined the cathedral walls from floor to ceiling: kings, warriors, priests and children.
All sealed beneath silver chains covered in ancient scripture.
None had been opened.
One eastern soldier whispered nervously:
“How old is this place?”
No one answered.
Because some of the carvings along the cathedral walls depicted things older than humanity itself: winged celestial beings descending from fractured heavens,giant skeletal war machines marching beneath eclipsed moons and vampire armies fighting beside human kingdoms against towering eldritch horrors.
The history of the world had been erased. And buried here.
Then they reached the central sanctuary.
The chamber was enormous enough to contain entire castles within it.
Gigantic black pillars rose endlessly into darkness overhead while silver rivers flowed quietly across polished marble floors around a colossal circular platform at the center.
And above it hung an artificial moon. A massive glowing silver sphere suspended by ancient chains far above the sanctuary illuminated the abyss cathedral with soft pale light.
It was beautiful and horrifying. Because it still worked.
Even Mordecai stopped moving. The Reaper stared upward silently while black shadows shifted uneasily around his monstrous body.
Something about the sanctuary disturbed him deeply.
Dragun slowly approached the central platform. Then froze.
A throne stood there.
Carved entirely from black crystal and silver bone.
And seated upon it was a corpse.
The ancient figure wore elegant royal armor lined with silver moon sigils while a massive black cloak draped over the throne beneath centuries of dust.
Its face remained hidden behind long white hair.
One pale skeletal hand rested upon the armrest beside an ancient black sword.
And despite being dead the corpse looked regal. Peaceful. Terrifying.
Lucian stepped backward slowly.
“…a king.”
Tenji’s expression darkened immediately.
“No.”
The Fairy stared at the throne with visible dread.
“That is not a king.”
The artificial moon flickered softly overhead. Then the corpse moved.
A single finger twitched upon the throne.
Every coffin in the cathedral rattled simultaneously.
The silver chains binding them began shaking violently while whispers spread through the sanctuary from unseen mouths hidden within darkness.
The moonlight dimmed. And somewhere deep beneath the cathedral something ancient took its first breath in centuries.
Then the corpse upon the throne slowly raised its head.
And opened crimson eyes.
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