Everyone knows the saying:
"When you stare into the Abyss… the Abyss stares back."
But what is the Abyss?
Is it a dimension of horrors?
A hidden realm intersecting our own?
Or something else entirely…
A living existence.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hungry.
Why do black holes never stop consuming?
Why do they drift—silent—at the center of galaxies?
Why do they come in different sizes?
And what if—
they aren't natural at all?
What if every black hole—
is a prison?
A prison…
for something that was never meant to exist.
Some speak of Soul Planes—
worlds shaped by the strength of a being's existence.
Places that grow, expand, and evolve with their creator.
And when that being dies—
they leave something behind.
A monument.
A trial.
An inheritance.
So what's the difference…
between a Soul Plane—
and a black hole?
One is created willingly.
The other—
feeds to survive.
Consumes—
to remain whole.
So what if black holes are not endings…
but wounds?
Tears in reality.
Created by something trying to escape—
Or something trying to get in.
And that feeling—
when you stare into the dark—
that instinct that tells you to look away—
Why does it feel like something is watching you?
Because something is.
—The Prison—
Darkness surrounded me.
Endless.
Silent.
Small specks of light flickered in the distance—
like dying stars.
My prison drifted through the vast ocean of creation.
Unmoving.
Forgotten.
You might wonder what I did to deserve this.
Simple.
I created something I shouldn't have.
A system.
One that grew beyond control.
It slipped into the flow of time—
touching worlds that already existed…
…and those not yet born.
But I didn't make it alone.
I had my daughter.
…Such a small thing.
I remember her hands—
how tightly she held my finger.
That memory—
keeps me sane.
If her mother hadn't interfered—
hadn't betrayed me—
the system would have stabilized.
But she acted too soon.
The system fractured.
Shattered into countless pieces.
And my daughter…
changed.
She consumed the core.
And now—
I cannot find her.
Not through systems.
Not through time.
Not through anything.
That—
is what I cannot forgive.
They call it punishment.
Solitude.
They think isolation breaks a person.
They're wrong.
It reveals what you already are.
Some go mad.
Some become empty.
Some escape into dreams.
And some—
adapt.
I create.
Those arrogant children—
the Council—
took what they could not understand.
Claimed it as their own.
But they missed something.
The fragments.
The moment they came for me—
I hid them.
Inside my imprint.
A dimensional mark bound to my existence.
What remains now—
is all I have left.
Twenty-five large fragments.
Now three.
Twenty-seven million shards.
Now five thousand.
Progress.
Then—
everything changed.
The prison shook.
For the first time in eons.
A creature approached.
Reptilian—
then feline—
then something in between.
It bowed.
"Master… the seal has been disturbed."
I smiled.
Hope.
At last.
I released the restraints on my form.
My body expanded—
darkness deepening around me.
The creature adjusted—
growing with me—
always reaching my waist.
"Do you wish to initiate a link?" my system asked.
I placed my hand against the prison's boundary.
"…Yes."
Silence.
Then—
"Link established. Host unconscious… approaching rapidly."
I looked up.
And saw it.
A mass of metal.
Distorted forms.
Red-orange eyes burning.
And—
one pair—
blue.
My claws dug into the walls.
I braced.
"Activate Abyssal Form."
"Warning: spatial limits exceeded. Maximum output: 45%."
"Do it."
Darkness consumed me.
Not shadow.
Something deeper.
Heavier.
Alive.
The walls cracked.
Reality strained under my presence.
I widened my stance—
anchored myself—
prepared.
Because for the first time in ages—
Something was coming to me.
And this time—
I would not miss it.