Benjamin opened his eyes to darkness.
Not the oppressive, thick darkness of underground tunnels or the shadowed depths of Khial's cursed places. This was different. This darkness was like a vast and endless void, stretching out in all directions, an expanse that swallowed even the concept of space itself.
He blinked, and the action seemed to cause ripples in the air around him, faint, trembling waves that faded into the nothingness. His body felt light, like he was floating yet anchored by some unseen force.
His senses struggled to reorient, to find some foothold in this abyssal plane. Then, something moved. A small, pale shape against the emptiness.
"Atty?" His voice echoed strangely, a distant call muffled by an unearthly silence.
The little gryphon stood before him, looking confused, his head tilted as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His white fur looked purer, untouched by the filth and grime of the arena. His feathers glowed softly, like silver dust illuminated by an unseen moon.
"Ben?" The voice entered his mind, trembling with confusion and an odd joy.
"Atty! You… you're okay?" Benjamin's words were tumbling over themselves, his heart racing.
"I… think so?" Atty's gaze darted left and right, his wings twitching. "This is the strangest place, Ben. Where are we?"
"I… I don't know. I was sure you were dying."
"Well, I'm not. And you look worse than me." Atty's voice tried to be playful, but the concern under it was plain.
Benjamin chuckled, the sound hollow and cracked. "Leave it to you to make jokes now. I was ready to rip that bastard to shreds."
"Would've been messy. And you're not exactly at your best, are you?"
"Guess not."
For a moment, neither spoke. They stared at each other, their connection—so often felt but rarely voiced—alive between them. It was as if this place had peeled away the barriers, allowing their thoughts to flow like a conversation.
"Wait…" Benjamin murmured. "You sound different."
"I sound the same."
"No. You sound... more aware. More like... yourself."
"Well," Atty replied with a playful huff, "maybe I'm evolving. Or maybe you're just finally noticing my brilliance."
Despite himself, Benjamin smiled. The sensation was like a faint breeze on parched skin. Atty's banter felt like sanity in the middle of madness. But something gnawed at him. Something he couldn't grasp.
"Where are we?" Benjamin asked again, this time with more urgency. "Is this... the afterlife?"
"Could be. Everything's dark. No cool clouds or golden palaces though."
"It's empty."
"Maybe we're just lost. You know, in some corner of the universe where reality forgot to stretch itself out."
"You took a poetry class recently?"
"Nope. Always had it me. Thought you knew better."
They began to walk. It was almost comical, as if walking held meaning in a place where there was no ground, no sky, no air. Their footsteps made no sound, their bodies left no marks, but somehow they moved forward.
Minutes stretched into hours. They talked, they laughed, their connection deepening with every thought shared. But the void never changed. Not once.
"This place... it's not real," Benjamin said, his voice weary. "Or maybe it's real in some different way. Like... an in-between place."
"In-between what?" Atty asked.
"Life and death. Or maybe something else. When Boyan..." His words trailed off. The memory was raw. Boyan's sword, his sadistic grin, the broken body of his friend held up like a trophy.
Atty's voice softened. "Hey. We're here. Whatever this place is. And we're together."
"But... how?"
"I don't know, Ben. But if you're here, I guess I'm here, too. Maybe you brought me. Or maybe I brought you."
They continued walking, steps growing slower, silence returning to consume their words. Benjamin's mind spun, trying to grasp the enormity of their situation. They weren't dead. They couldn't be.
But then what was this place?
"I remember... I was losing it. I called for something, didn't I?" Benjamin murmured, his thoughts spinning. "I was desperate, praying for strength. But I didn't call for just anything. I called for... a source of power."
Atty's head twitched. "You don't think...?"
"Yeah. I think whatever I called... it brought me here."
"And where exactly is 'here'?"
"Nowhere," came a voice that was not their own.
The darkness split apart.
It wasn't like a light breaking through shadows. It was a violent tearing, a fracturing of the very fabric of the void. Like a wound in the air itself, bleeding something both terrible and beautiful.
And then it appeared.
An entity, a being of impossible geometry and infinite intricacy. Its form was a mass of twisting wings-like extensions, layered eyes, and radiant limbs, each part both existing and not existing, as if seen through a thousand overlapping realities. Its presence filled the air with a sound like whispered thunder, a cacophony of meaning that crushed the senses.
Atty recoiled, his tiny body pressed against Benjamin's leg. "What... what is that?"
Benjamin's voice was thin, almost choked. "An Itharim."
The being's gaze—or what Benjamin could only imagine was a gaze—pierced through him like a blade of pure knowledge. Its voice was neither sound nor thought but something that transcended both.
"You have called upon the power of the Unmade," it spoke. Its voice was an eternal chorus, both angelic and monstrous. "You were heard."
Benjamin swallowed, his throat dry. "You... you brought me here?"
"No. You brought yourself. You reached for the Unmade. I am but the answer to your call."
Atty whimpered, his thoughts a trembling blur. "Is this... are you Asterion, the Unmade?"
"I am nothing of the sort. I am Itharim, a fragment of what you would call...Logos, a servant of the Unmade. The One Who Is Not Made. I am a witness to His will, the voice of His purpose."
Benjamin's mind reeled. "Why... why am I here? What did you do to me?"
"What you possess is not power. It is a gift. A fragment of the intelligible made manifest. But you have been marked by Malachros. His corruption lingers within you, expanding with every use of your abilities."
The words struck Benjamin like a blow. "What does that mean?"
"It means that unless you defeat Malachros, you will become his vessel. And he will devour this world through you."
The Itharim's presence grew, the air itself trembling. "Your fate is tied to his. Victory is the only path to survival."
Atty's voice was weak. "And... and if he loses?"
"Then he will be remade."
---
The Itharim's words hung in the darkness, each syllable a tremor within Benjamin's soul. The being's presence was overwhelming, its existence a tapestry of radiant limbs, twisting wings, and eyes that saw all things from every conceivable angle.
The term remade echoed in Benjamin's mind like a curse.
"Remade? What do you mean?" Benjamin's voice was hoarse, his throat burning with desperation. "If I fail, if Malachros takes over... what happens to me?"
The Itharim's gaze bore down on him, an immeasurable weight of knowledge and power pressing against his mind. "You will not cease to be, nor will you continue as you are. Your soul will be twisted, your essence torn apart and rebuilt as nothing more than a shell for Malachros's will."
Benjamin's knees weakened, his breathing faltering. "So... I'd be... dead?"
"Worse than death. You would exist only to serve him. Every thought, every action would be his. Your own consciousness would drown in an endless ocean of darkness, suffocating under the weight of his hatred and ambition."
Atty's small voice trembled through their mental link. "Ben... you can't let that happen."
"No," Benjamin replied, his voice a fractured whisper. "No, I can't."
The Itharim's wings unfurled with a sudden, terrible majesty, like an oceanic wave collapsing upon the shore. Its voice filled the emptiness, a harmony of meaning and paradox. "Malachros was once with us. A being with the freedom to choose, a gift given by the Unmade. But his pride consumed him. His corruption, a byproduct of his own desire to create and destroy."
Benjamin's fists clenched. "Why me? Why was I chosen for this... nightmare?"
"You were not chosen. You were simply... moved."
"Moved?"
The Itharim's voice grew quieter, as if recounting something distant yet essential. "The Unmade desired not puppets, but beings who could understand, shape, and reflect. The Laws of existence are threads of His intention, interwoven with the lives of all things. And those who can glimpse the pattern... can grasp them. Shape them."
"So, the Laws... they aren't just powers? They're... pieces of something bigger?"
"Correct. The Laws are the intelligible, that which can be grasped by the mind. They are the reflection of the Unmade's will, the reason behind all things. Your gift to absorb knowledge is but a small fragment of what lies beyond."
Benjamin swallowed hard. "And... Malachros? What is he?"
"A unique creature, part Itharim and part something else, who twisted his understanding of the Laws. Who rejected the harmony of the Unmade's intention and sought his own supremacy. He has become the Opposer, a force of corruption that desires only to consume and reshape in his own image."
"But... I've faced him before," Benjamin argued, his voice trembling. "I banished him in the Lost Aviary. How is he still... here?"
The Itharim's gaze burned into him. "You did not defeat him. You merely pushed him away. A wound unhealed. And when you called upon the Unmade's power in your desperation, it awoke something within you that Malachros can exploit."
"Exploit?"
"The mark he left upon your soul is like a wound. Every time you draw upon the power granted by the Unmade, the mark grows. Spreads. If left unchecked, it will eventually consume you, allowing him to take control of your body and use it as a vessel for his return."
Benjamin's mind whirled. It was too much, too fast. His voice came out choked. "Then... what am I supposed to do?"
"Fight."
The word was simple, but it carried a weight that Benjamin felt crushing down on his shoulders.
"But how?" Atty's voice interjected. "Ben's strong, yeah, but against something like Malachros? How do you expect him to stand a chance?"
"To not fear. There is hope," the Itharim said, and for the first time, there was something almost compassionate in its tone. "Your connection with Atty is unique. It was not forged by accident. The Unmade moved you both here for a purpose. A purpose only you can fulfill."
"What purpose?"
"To live. To struggle, and through struggle, to understand."
Benjamin scowled. "You talk in riddles. I don't understand."
The Itharim's limbs twisted, its wings folding into themselves like a celestial storm. "What you call riddles are merely truths you have yet to grasp. The Unmade does not create perfection. He creates potential. And it is the duty of those who walk the world to seek that potential. To grow. To struggle. To understand."
"And if I fail?"
"Then the world will fall with you."
The darkness around them trembled, the void itself shivering under the weight of the Itharim's words. Benjamin felt his mind crackling with possibilities, his own thoughts swirling with a strange clarity.
"So... you're giving me power? Or what?"
"I am giving you understanding. The Laws are not simple forces to be manipulated. They are patterns to be perceived. Each Law is a glimpse of the Unmade's will. You have touched them, Benjamin. But you have not yet seen them."
"What do you mean?"
"The reason you can absorb knowledge so quickly is because your soul is aligned with the Logos, the intelligible. The Unmade has gifted you with this connection so you may grasp the truth of Khial. But your power is incomplete. Fractured by Malachros's corruption."
The Itharim's form bent closer, its blazing eyes locking onto Benjamin's own. "I will open the path. But the curse that binds you will grow stronger. Malachros will feed on your power even as you wield it. The more you grow, the more the corruption will attempt to consume you."
Benjamin's fists clenched. "And if I beat him?"
"Then you will be made whole. And the world will gain a guardian rather than a destroyer."
Atty's voice trembled, but his tone was defiant. "Ben... we've come this far. We can't stop now."
Benjamin looked down at his trembling hands, then at Atty's glowing silver eyes. His friend. His strength. His sanity. Now he also had a purpose. "Alright. Whatever it takes. I'll fight him. I'll stop Malachros. Even if it costs me everything."
The Itharim's wings flared, an aurora of blinding light searing through the darkness.
"Then receive this gift, and know that every step forward will also bring you closer to the abyss. The question is not whether you can win. It is whether you are willing to risk losing yourself to do so."
A surge of energy ripped through Benjamin's body, a power so immense it felt like it was tearing him apart and rebuilding him all at once. His screams echoed into the void, as the Itharim's presence began to fade.
"Remember, Benjamin. Your power is not a gift to take lightly. It is a responsibility. And a curse. My wish, my prayer, is that you will find true peace, all of you."
Benjamin felt what seemed like invisible shackles removed from his spirit. Things that were preventing him to connect with the Laws. They were locks that Kareya had felt and that were put there to protect him. Now they were unnecessary.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the world collapsed around him.