The central chamber of the Abyssal Nadir was enormous – hundreds of feet wide, almost as deep, with a ceiling that seemed as endless as the void the tower was thrust into itself. And yet, the massive figure of the being known as the Timesus seemed to dwarf it. The eternal creature, the molded essence of a black star, loomed like an ebony mountain, its body rippled with massive, heaving stone that was streaked with fissures of churning lava. To that, the blood red glow of the pulsing crystal, the Heart of the Abyss, bathed the immortal in a grisly hue making it seem even more intimidating, more overwhelming in presence, than its immeasurable size already cast it.

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With a tremendous swing of an inn-sized fist, the Timesus slammed heavily into the blazing red shard that pierced the flooring of the chamber. As the titanic, immortal power crashed into the Heart, an ear-piercing crack lashed out from the impact, sending ripples of discordance that tore at not just the physical objects it crashed into, but at reality itself. It was as if the universe itself was unraveling with each blow.

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Yet for Drag, Kiki, Pitt, and Tre, there would be no turning back. No cowering in the face of an entity that lived beyond the concept of time. They had endured too much, survived battles no mortal had a right to, and seen too many tragedies that hinted at the ultimate price everyone would face should they fail to falter now.

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As was often the case, it would be Pitt who would react first to the threat. Striding bravely in the Timesus’ direction, he would call upon his ancient power to hex the walking black star while sending forth powerful blasts of eldritch energies at it. Again and again, the forces of the unearthly magic he wielded detonated against the elemental enemy, tearing away huge chunks of stone and exposing more of the molten flows of the immortal, only to see much of what he did reform over the scarring blows with new stony flesh.

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Perhaps more horrible was the fact that as the Warlock-Bard watched, those shattered fragments and other tumbling pieces of the Timesus’ body formed into horrific elemental fiends, like those terrors the group had faced before, as they fell from the black star’s body. These demonic entities, though, would be no threat to the heroes, yet they could take no solace in that as the hateful creatures would be swept away into the portals that cut into the walls of the room where they would, undoubtably, terrorize those worlds they were cast into.

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"The Heart of the Abyss is the last remnant of a dead universe! You think you can bend it to your will, mortals?"

 

The Timesus’ voice was the booming crush of a hammer against the anvil. Pitt had, for better or worse, drawn its attention to him.

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With a stride that could sweep over a town, the immortal stepped towards the half-elf and, with disdain, swept his flaming fist at the puny mortal that stood against it. Pitt, battle hardened as he was, survivor of the destruction of Sloobludop, city of the Kuo-Toa, at the hands of the Demogorgon, used all his wile and wisdom to avoid the crushing blows, yet even as he avoided the worst of the life-threatening slam, the crush of the earth beneath, the force of the impact that reverberated throughout the room, was enough to send him reeling – blood seeping from his nostrils and ears. His vision swam before him and he fought desperately to maintain consciousness.

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“Aid me, my image!” Hoarsely, Pitt called to the simulacrum made in his own likeness.

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The near-copy of the Warlock-Bard would respond. The glow of timeless powers would surround the severely wounded half-elf as the simulacrum called forth the greatest of magics left to him to repair the flesh and spirit of his master-maker. While not capable of repairing all the damage inflicted, Pitt now stood steadily on his feet with only the drying tracks of blood to indicate how seriously he was wounded just moments before.

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Tre’ Ainu saw what even the barest impact of the black star’s attacks was inflicting upon her friend, and quickly acted. As a servant of nature, Tre could call forth the energies of both day and night, sky and earth, even as she prowled in her beloved Great Tiger form. As she had great success with the magic of the night guide in previous conflicts, she called out to her goddess to send a shaft of radiant moonlight to sear at the Timesus. The Moonbeam magic, though, seemed to affect it little compared to most as the creature shed most of its light away.

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This was all too much for Drag to watch. One of his companions nearly crushed by the immortals blows and awe inspiring magics inflicting too little damage against the being. His rage, born of all he had overcome to be at risk now, was too much to contain. With a bestial shout, he used what magic he was capable of summoning, growing to twice his normal size, and challengingly charged the elemental foe. As he did so, he saw streaks of acid strike at the Timesus, thrown from the delicate hands of the little gnome. With a growl of anger, Drag watched the immortal brush away Kiki’s normally powerful attacks.

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“Come at me, you overgrown lump of Moradin’s waste and taste the fury of a true servant of the earth!” Drag had no idea if the Timesus could understand him, but it felt good, at least, to vent his wrath and draw the enemy’s attention.

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To say that the battle would turn there on the heroism of Drag would be a lie, though. Despite Pitt and his double continuing to send his impactful eldritch energies into the black star immortal, beyond the constant intense light of the moonbeam magic of the druid and the powerful sorceries of the normally bubbly gnome, the Timesus seemed implacable and the force of his attacks life threatening.

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Again and again, even through the life-enlarging magic that Drag was bolstered by and the protection of the ancestors his fury granted him, the blows of the Timesus staggered the grey dwarf. Valiantly, the barbarian would risk all, leaving himself vulnerable to the eternal being’s attacks, in a desperate effort to take it down, but it was a losing battle. He could not withstand the supernatural entity that stood before him. Drag vowed that if he were to die here, it would be with firm grip on his warhammer.

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To his aid, the most powerful of healings would be summoned by Pitt and Tre’ Ainu, and on his feet Drag would still stand, at least for a little longer.

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"The Raven Queen will die. Fate has been pierced by the Undying Shard. You shall witness the end of death and the eternity of unlife. Serve Orcus now while your heart still pulses with life or serve him later as all shall in the end."

 

“You big meanie,” Kiki would squeak defiantly, as only she could. “I don’t like you at all! You can go away now.” And she meant it, with a foot stomp and fierce glare added!

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Having seen the Pitts' force energies whittling away, if slowly, at the massive foe, the Sorceress sought to take control of her much-used fireball magic, tapping into deep seated fonts of magic to reform the fiery ball into a more base magic that she believed would impact the Timesus with greater effect – and she would be right. With loud explosions, her elemental powers would erupt against the immortal in explosions large enough to encompass an entire house. Once. Twice. Three times. The dark star given existence was fissuring away more rapidly now.

 

"Destroy me and you destroy yourselves! I hold this Nadir together. If I am unmade, so is everything else that exists within this pocket of the void!"

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Hope.

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It’s a magical word and Pitt, who sometimes saw inevitable defeat imminently approaching, felt it. It had to be enough, or all was lost. Tre, in her Great Tiger form, was now engaged with claw and teeth seeking to find birth in the stony flesh of the eternal enemy. Drag, his body battered, terrible wounds exposed and painful looking, still swung with all his might in defiance. Both, though, were near death.

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Hope. Pitt told himself. It’s what the Raven Queen needed. It was going to be enough!

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With everything he had, Pitt thew every ounce of energy and will against the Timesus. The Warlock-Bard’s eldritch energies, in both streaking force and mystical hammers, battered against the dire enemy, seeking those weak areas that had been exposed by previous attacks.

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Hope would prevail.

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With an avalanche of crushing stone, the Timesus would lose its cohesion, the powers that give it form and existence torn asunder. It had been defeated.

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Its last resounding words, though, would prove true.

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The air would shimmer, the Abyssal Nadir would writhe in response. Bit by bit, though in rapid succession, the void was reclaiming its domain and the tower was being unmade in the process – and with it, so too would everything within it.

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The Heart of the Abyss, the last fragments of a universe that died under the weight of its own evil, detonates in response. The impact of its corruption is such that all that it touches, even as it fractures into the most miniscule of pieces, is to extinguish any remnants of life that it comes in contact with.

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For the Heroes of the Underdark, it is the end. As eternal darkness closes in, the hope they held to the end was given over to the prayer that it would be enough, this stroke against evil, to save the Raven Queen so that the Guardian of Spirits and the Guide to the Afterlife could escape the clutches of Orcus who sought to usurp her.