Prince of The Abyss

With nothing going in his favour, Aether had decided to go to the palace, not to challenge the trial, but to see what was inside, to prepare for when he did. To be aware of the environment.

He had left the Inn without even giving the women a moment to think, so she probably hated him, but at the same time, he knew that if he gave her that hope, she would get bound to him instead of the Inn, which put pressure on his shoulders.

And practically let only one path for him to go on. The one to challenge the trial, but what if he wanted to do something else? It didn’t matter if he would have chosen the same path; it is better to have more than one, it is better to choose than only having one option.

He really.... really wanted to get out of this place, as fast as he could. He recognized its danger, as looking at his mental fortitude, it had dropped a little, but it had.

All this... thinking, all these questions about denial and... the essence of life, had really taken a toll on him. He also hated how a part of him wanted to save them, the people of the Inn, people like Tia; it was the part of him that still believed it was a leader, someone who cared for the people by his side, the part of him that still believed his family was still alive.

...

It did make him wonder if the whole of the Tides revolved around intensifying people’s denial and making them go insane. What would the trial even be, since he had already said he thought it was going to be something that harmed your mental health rather than physically attacking you?

So what?

He couldn’t figure it out.

The trial had to have something harder than living in the Tides; if it wasn’t, then why wouldn’t everyone do it? I mean, if it’s easier to become human again than pretending to be one... why would anyone choose the latter?

There had to be something... something harder, something most consider impossible to beat...

He just didnt know what.

’Well, whatever it is, it has been able to keep... probably thousands of people from leaving this place.’

So with so many people failing, could he actually be able to do it?

’Its pointless in asking questions like this, creating your odds on others? It’s never about them. Many fish can fail to eat a bone, but that doesn’t mean something like a piranha will fail.’

It’s all about knowing your abilities; only then can you make your chances... well, if you also know what you’re going against, which was exactly what he was doing now.

...

Even before he properly saw it, the palace announced itself through presence alone, an invisible pull that threaded through the city’s streets and canals, through the damp air and humming stone, all pointing inward. At the very center of the Tides, where every broken road subtly curved and every drifting current seemed to lean, it stood.

He looked up.

The palace dominated the skyline in a way that made the surrounding towers feel like debris left behind by something greater. It was colossal, layered into the heart of the city like a crown pressed down too hard. Massive platforms stacked atop one another in widening rings, each level rimmed with jagged balustrades and towering arches that opened into shadow too deep to be empty. The structure didn’t rise cleanly; it spiraled, slow and deliberate, as if the city itself had been wound around it over centuries.

Its stone was ancient and dark, darker than the rest of the city, polished to a near-liquid sheen. Veins of soft green light ran through it like submerged currents, pulsing steadily, not flickering, patient, enduring. They traced along columns thicker than watchtowers, up walls carved with reliefs so worn they were closer to memories than images. Figures, battles, waves, crowns, things half-erased by time or intention.

Above the lower tiers, immense spires pierced upward, uneven in height, some broken, some whole, all connected by sweeping bridges that arced through open air. Those bridges weren’t stone alone, parts of them shimmered, translucent, like hardened light or glass forged from the same substance as the mist itself. They caught the glow and bent it, making the palace seem larger than it should’ve been, stretching into distances that didn’t fully make sense.

At its peak, something burned.

Not fire, light. A steady, contained radiance buried deep within the highest structure, as though a heart had been sealed inside layers of stone and will. It didn’t shine outward aggressively. It waited.

Aether felt it then, clearly. Not fear. Not awe alone.

Recognition.

This wasn’t just a seat of power. It was an anchor. A control point. Whatever ruled the Tides, whatever kept this city suspended between ocean and dream, flowed from there. Every patrol route, every statue’s gaze, every street that subtly guided foot traffic inward, it all fed back to that place.

That was where answers lived.

That was where danger gathered.

’Hell, it really is a palace.’

Would he say he was impressed by it... maybe a little, but at the same time. He had been inside the Second Ring of Frozen Crown, and that place was something he never got past. A beautiful place, and yet...

Nevermind.

This wasnt about Frozen Crown.

He took a deep breath, looking one more time at the colossal palace. Before taking a step forward.

You know... he wondered, where the palace seemed to pierce the skin, and where the light seemed to burn, was it the place where you ascend to the real world?

If so, did you have to climb the palace? Was the trial more than one thing? Was the trial the palace itself, not a single enemy?

...

Aether stood at the gate of the palace. He felt his legs tremble, but he didn’t know why. The steel gate seemed unmoved for years, so it made him wonder when someone else had challenged this thing.

He took a step forward, and above the game, a giant red eye opened, making him stagger, as they made eye contact, yet at the same time, he had a feeling he wasn’t looking at his eyes, but his ember. After a while, it closed itself, leaving him in an awkward silence.

Before the gate suddenly moved.

Dust sprouted in the air, with wind bursting in his face, as the sound of an old gate opening rang in his ears.

Aether took a deep breath as he stepped inside.

The first floor of the palace was brutally simple.

Aether stepped into a vast, open chamber with flat, towering walls that rose straight up and vanished into shadow. No curves. No ornament meant to please. Just sheer surfaces of dark stone, cut into massive interlocking slabs like a fortress built by something that didn’t care for beauty. The floor was a single, uninterrupted plane of polished black stone, cold and faintly wet, reflecting the greenish light in blurred, distorted streaks.

Thin lines of luminescence were carved directly into the walls, not decorative, but functional, running vertically and horizontally like veins or circuitry. They pulsed slowly, evenly, giving the space a sense of rhythm without movement. In places, the stone was scarred: deep grooves, chipped edges, signs of impact that hadn’t been repaired, only absorbed into the structure.

The room felt empty but not abandoned.

The air was dense and still, carrying that familiar salt-and-stone scent, and beneath it all was a low, constant vibration, subtle enough to ignore if you weren’t paying attention, but impossible to forget once you noticed it. Sound didn’t echo here. It simply stopped.

No furniture. No symbols demanding reverence.Just space, deliberate, oppressive space, meant to remind anyone who entered how small they were before whatever ruled from deeper within.

He was rather confused by this simplistic design; he had expected something... more detail-oriented from the outside, I mean, was the whole thing hollow, or was it just the first floor?

But as he was rather disappointed by the first floor, he heard something terrifying behind him, the gate closing.

Aether quickly turned around, but the gate was already closed. He had no chance to get through.

He was trapped, he couldn’t leave anymore, and the only thing he could do was challenge the trial... or was it that he already did it?

’Shit...’

He should have probably expected it, after all, the note said that the trial wouldn’t stop until his will was broken once he opened, and he figured the palace itself was the trial, so really, how did he not figure it out?

...

He did, he did know. He figured it out a while ago, and he knew that the doors would close themselves; he wouldn’t make such a mistake. It was stupid. He did it intentionally.

He chuckled...

He knew what would happen, it was just that for the first time... he accepted denying that it would happen.