The Abyss Contract

 

A dramatic and cinematic book cover titled "THE ABYSS CONTRACT" by author Douye Soroh.

The Deal In The Void

What would you do if you had the choice to pick who should remain in the world and who shouldn’t? What would you do if the world was in the palm of your hand and you had the authority to erase an entire continent from the map? Would you be selfish? Would you be a tyrant, or would you be fair, guided by justice and equity?

Those were the questions asked to Ethan as he floated in the abyss. He had no idea if it was truly an abyss; all he could say was that the place was without form and void. All he could do was listen to the voice of the one who had taken him there. The voice said, "Your mind is a powerful tool that you can shape to your will. All you have to do is reach out." And he had done just that.

He had shaped the abyss into a comfortable place within his mind. He had been floating there, drinking in the rich quietness and the bliss of peace, power, and authority. He had been a victim of mistaken identity; he had been arrested, beaten, and sentenced to four years in prison. He had suffered, and he had contracted a kind of disease that turned his mind into a tool to be used by a being he couldn't quite pinpoint. All he knew was that this being promised him the power to choose who exists in the world and who does not. But first, he had been told to sign a contract—a contract to bind him, the abyss, and the being together. He didn't care what he was signing; all he cared about was getting justice.

Ethan was a good citizen who lived a very quiet life. He paid his taxes and volunteered for community organizations that take care of the underprivileged. He donated what little he could to charity and sometimes advocated for better living conditions for the poor. He wasn't well-known, and he was happy with what he could accomplish even without any backers. He enjoyed doing his part and was always happy to see the smiles on the children's faces.

He was going home late one night when he was accosted by the police. It turned out they were dirty cops who had been paid off by a man who felt Ethan was destroying his business and needed to be "dealt with" or gotten rid of.

He was framed. The cops had plenty of evidence and witnesses who spilled lies he never believed a human being was capable of. He was found guilty of drug possession with intent to distribute. As he was sentenced to four years, the judge said, "Good riddance to society."

He had wept, quickly finding out that in a court of law, sentiment will not save you.

He had been thrown into a cell with rough-looking inmates who saw him as "fresh meat"—an easy target to vent their frustrations on. He had endured so much pain, and the last beating landed him in the infirmary. That was when he felt his spirit leaving his body. He thought he had died until he found himself floating in an abyss—a vast nothingness, a place as black as the darkest corners of the supernatural. He was confused, wondering what he was doing there, when a voice sounded in his head. It was a voice he thought he’d never want to hear again; it was a voice full of authority that rattled his very being: "ETHAN!"

Ethan looked around but could see nothing. Suddenly, a bright light appeared in the blackness. He squinted, covering his eyes to keep from being blinded. "Who are you?"

"ETHAN, I HAVE SEEN YOUR SUFFERING. I HAVE SEEN THE WRONGS DONE TO A GOOD MAN LIKE YOU, AND I WANT TO MAKE A DEAL."

"Who are you?" Ethan asked again, wondering what sort of trick his mind was playing on him.

"THIS IS NO TRICK. I AM THE GOD OF JUSTICE. I HAVE SEEN YOUR GOODNESS AND I WANT YOU TO BE MY VESSEL. I WANT YOU TO BE MY PUNISHER, AND I WANT YOU TO DISPENSE JUSTICE."

"But how? I’m nobody. How can I carry such power?"

"I WILL GIVE YOU THE POWER TO CHOOSE WHO LIVES AND WHO DIES. I WILL GIVE YOU THE POWER TO RESHAPE THE WORLD OR TO ERASE A NATION."

"That is a lot to give a mortal," Ethan said. "I’m afraid I have to decline. That kind of power scares me."

"YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. YOU ARE AT DEATH’S DOOR, AND ONLY TAKING THIS POWER WILL SAVE YOU."

"Death’s door? How?"

"THE ONE WHO FRAMED YOU SENT MEN TO ASSAULT YOU, AND THEY DID A NUMBER ON YOU. YOUR ADVOCACY FOR A BETTER LIFE AND YOUR FIGHT AGAINST DRUG ABUSE REACHED THOSE WHO PROFIT FROM IT."

"And if I take your deal, what’s the catch?"

"YOU WILL BECOME FORMLESS IN TWO YEARS' TIME, ROAMING THE WORLD DISPENSING JUSTICE. YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD; I AM GIVING YOU TWO YEARS TO LIVE A LIFE, TO MARRY, AND TO HAVE CHILDREN WHO WILL BEAR YOUR NAME."

The First Test: The Gala of Lies

The abyss rippled like black water, and suddenly, Ethan wasn't floating anymore. He was standing in the shadows of a grand ballroom, invisible to the crowd. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the air smelled of expensive perfume and aged bourbon.

There, on a stage under a banner that read “Champion of the Law,” stood Judge Miller. He looked different—healthier, wearing a tuxedo that probably cost more than Ethan’s annual salary. He was laughing, shaking hands with the city’s elite.

“LOOK AT HIM,” the God’s voice boomed in Ethan’s mind, though the crowd heard nothing. “THE MAN WHO CALLED YOU A RIDDANCE TO SOCIETY IS BEING CELEBRATED AS ITS SAVIOR. HE KNOWS THE EVIDENCE WAS PLANTED. HE KNEW THE WITNESSES WERE PAID. YET, HE SLEEPS WELL AT NIGHT.”

The God held out a hand, and a shimmering, dark energy coiled around Ethan’s fingers. “I GIVE YOU A TASTE OF MY AUTHORITY. REACH OUT. TOUCH HIS HEART FROM ACROSS THIS ROOM. YOU CAN MAKE HIM FEEL THE COLD OF THE INFIRMARY FLOOR. YOU CAN MAKE HIM FEEL EVERY BLOW THE INMATES DEALT TO YOUR RIBS. YOU CAN STRIP AWAY HIS REPUTATION IN A SINGLE BREATH.”

Ethan looked at his hand. The power felt heavy, vibrating with a heat that demanded to be released. He looked at the Judge, who was currently raising a glass in a toast to "Integrity."

“PUNISH HIM, ETHAN. PROVE THAT YOU ARE NOT JUST A VICTIM, BUT A DISPENSER OF JUSTICE.”

Ethan’s heart hammered against his chest. This was the man who had stolen his life. One flick of his wrist and the debt would be paid. But as he looked at the Judge, he saw the man’s wife and children standing proudly beside him.

"If I do this," Ethan whispered, his voice trembling, "am I actually being fair? Or am I just as dirty as the cops who put me away?"

“JUSTICE IS NEVER CLEAN, MORTAL. IT IS NECESSARY. CHOOSE.”

Ethan gripped the dark energy, his knuckles white. The power felt like a living thing, an addictive heat pulsing through his veins. He looked at Judge Miller, who was now soaking up a standing ovation. This man hadn't just made a mistake; he had knowingly buried an innocent man to protect his own career.

"HE IS VULNERABLE, ETHAN. ONE THOUGHT, AND THE WORLD WILL SEE HIM FOR THE FILTH HE IS. STRIKE."

Ethan stepped forward from the shadows, his eyes locked on the Judge. He felt a surge of cold fury. He remembered the smell of the prison infirmary, the copper taste of blood in his mouth, and the sound of the cell door slamming shut—the sound of his life ending.

He raised his hand, pointing a finger at the Judge’s chest. The dark energy flared, ready to leap across the room and tear Miller’s soul apart. The Judge suddenly paused, a look of brief, unexplained terror crossing his face as if a cold wind had just walked over his grave.

But then, Ethan saw the Judge’s youngest daughter. She was no older than six, pulling on her father's tuxedo sleeve and looking up at him with pure, unearned pride.

Ethan’s hand shook. If he unleashed this power, he would destroy the Judge, but he would also destroy the world that little girl believed in. He would be creating a new cycle of pain, exactly like the one that had birthed him into this abyss.

"No," Ethan whispered.

"NO? YOU WOULD LET THIS INJUSTICE STAND?" the God roared, the ballroom floor seeming to tremble.

"I won't kill him for a toast," Ethan said, his voice growing firmer. He lowered his hand, the dark energy receding but not disappearing. "If I am your vessel of justice, then it has to be real justice—not just a shortcut to revenge. I want him to face what he did. I want the truth to come out in the light, not in a dark room where nobody sees the lesson."

He looked up into the infinite blackness of the God's presence.

"I'll take the deal. I'll take the two years. But I’m not going to be a murderer. I’m going to be the truth. I’ll make them confess. I’ll make them undo what they did. That is justice."

The ballroom began to dissolve, the crystal chandeliers turning into streaks of white light.

"VERY WELL, ETHAN. YOU SEEK THE HARDER PATH. YOU SEEK EQUITY OVER VENGEANCE. LET US SEE IF YOUR RESOLVE HOLDS WHEN THE BLOOD IS ON YOUR OWN HANDS."

Suddenly, the silence of the abyss was replaced by the harsh, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

The Final Sentence

The transition was violent. The silence of the abyss was shattered by the shrill, rhythmic scream of a heart monitor. Ethan gasped, his lungs burning as if they were tasting air for the first time. The infirmary was dim, smelling of bleach and old metal. Within hours, the impossible happened: a frantic lawyer arrived with an emergency vacatur. New evidence had "surfaced"—the dirty cops had turned on each other, and the businessman’s ledgers had been leaked.

Ethan walked out of the prison gates a free man, but he was a ghost in his own life.

The next six months were a desert of loneliness. The power hummed beneath his skin, a constant reminder of the "catch." He spent his nights dispensing justice to the shadows of the city, but his days were empty. Every woman he met felt like a fleeting shadow—until he met Sarah. She was a public defender, a woman who fought the same monsters he did, but with the law instead of darkness. It took months for her to see past the haunted look in his eyes, but eventually, his quiet goodness won her over.

They married in a small courthouse—the same kind of building that had once condemned him.

The two years moved like sand through an hourglass. Every kiss from Sarah, every milestone with their two children—Leo and Maya—was a bittersweet sting. He lived a lifetime in twenty-four months, building a sanctuary of love even as his physical form began to feel thin, like parchment held up to the sun.

The Final Night

On the eve of the second anniversary, Ethan sat on their porch, the summer air thick with the scent of jasmine. Sarah sat beside him, watching the children play in the grass. Ethan felt the edges of his fingers beginning to numb, turning into a faint, silver vapor.

"Sarah," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I have to tell you the truth about why I came back."

He told her everything—the abyss, the God of Justice, the deal that saved his life but stole his future. He told her he wasn't just a man who got lucky; he was a vessel on borrowed time.

Sarah reached for his hand, her eyes filling with tears. "No, Ethan. You’re joking. You’re right here."

"I'm already gone, Sarah," he said, tears finally streaming down his face. "I gave up my soul to get back to the light... to find you. I had to see justice done, but the greatest justice I ever found was the love in this house."

He stood up to hug his children one last time, but as he reached for them, his arms began to drift away like smoke.

"Daddy?" Leo asked, stopping his game.

Ethan looked at his family—his heart breaking, yet full. "I love you. Remember that the truth is the only thing that lasts. I'll be the wind in the trees. I'll be the shadow that protects you."

With a final, shimmering breath, Ethan leaned in to kiss Sarah. But before their lips could meet, his body dissolved into a fine, glowing mist. The evening breeze caught him, swirling the silver vapor around his wife and children in one last, lingering embrace before he vanished into the night air.

The porch was silent, save for the sound of the crickets and the soft, broken sobs of a woman who had just seen a miracle disappear.

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