The Nyxorian Bond:

The sky was filled with solemn hues of red and violet. The smell of blood filled the noses of those that had not yet fallen. The radiant and floating city, once hailed as a heavenly utopia, now overflowed with the screams of the last of its people.

Celeste ran through the crumbling palace with the Nyxorian held tightly in her arms. She tried desperately to ignore the cries that echoed through the marbled corridors, repeating the words, “It will all be over soon…,” countless times in her head. Her usual pristine and lavender-colored robes were now stained with the blood of another, someone she had no time to grieve.

Illusions of twisting, warping halls plagued her vision, trying to drive her mad… trying to corrupt her. He was doing this. The traitor who once stood beside them, now consumed by his obsession with power.

Outside, the screams were no more. What remained were flesh and blood, but their humanity had been stripped from them. They moved and jerked unnaturally, as if controlled by unfeeling hands. They clawed at the palace walls with shattered nails and hollow moans, existing only to obey their master.

Celeste burst through the doors of her chamber. With a flick of her hand, she slammed them shut and sealed them with a magic barrier. She tried to block out the phantom cries of her people, her siblings, but the illusions grew stronger with each passing second. She rushed to the table in the center of the room, sweeping away scrolls and spell books to clear the space. As she set the Nyxorian down, she began the incantation. Her voice trembled with every word. With each pounding blow to the door and each falling chunk of rubble, she was forced to restart the spell again and again.

As the light of the seal flickered and shook, the deity’s voice rang out from beyond it, howling her name in a tone she no longer recognized. Celeste froze mid-chant, her gaze shifting slowly from the crystal to the cracked seal. The fractures spread like spiderwebs before shattering entirely. Shadows poured in like a raging tide, but Celeste had already made her choice.

She grabbed the Nyxorian and, without hesitation, slammed it against the marbled floor.

It shattered into countless pieces that froze in midair. Both she and the deity stared in shock as the shards began twisting and swirling, pulling inward and collapsing into themselves like a miniature black hole. Then… light. Blinding and absolute filled the room in the blink of an idea. A burst of pure energy tore through the palace, stretching across the entire estate. Celeste’s final scream was swallowed by the explosion. The deity’s body was fractured, scorched, and broken… along with the Nyxorian.

As the echo of the explosion faded, the floating city trembled. The ground cracked, causing buildings to collapse and statues to crumble. The light dimmed, leaving behind a heavy and uncanny silence filled only by the clatter of pebbles and the low hum of the wind.

Soon… a dreadful groan rose from the earth. A sound that told of final surrender, as if the weary land had finally given in. Slowly, inevitably, the floating city of Empyra began to fall.

The Fall of Empyra…

…

…

Centuries passed and the ruins of Empyra became one with the soil of the earth. From that soil, came a new city known as Umbrathis. The truth of what happened on Empyra had been rewritten more times than even the stars could count. Yet few know that the now shattered heart of Empyra, the Nyxorian, lies scattered across the land, its unstable power still pulsing, stirring beneath the surface.