Tales of Styx: Part III
“To understand the future, he must bury himself in the bones of the past.”

A year after the events of Erebus III, a dark warrior drifts alone through the black.
His name: Stygian.

Stygian hears a voice echoing from beyond Saturn’s stormed edge—a whisper from the void:

“Go past the rings. Seek what waits beyond. Find the power you crave.”

And so he does.
Past frozen moons and dust-rimmed light, he finds it—Nibiru, a dead planet drowned in shadow, holding only ruins and secrets.

Among them, a temple archive, sealed beneath obsidian stone.
One of the many Archives—created by its ruler, Styx.
A relic built by the very figure whose past has echoed faintly through the darkness.

Stygian wanders its shattered halls, drawn deeper into forgotten knowledge.
There, he uncovers fragmented records: stories of Styx, a sovereign of darkness, a ruler whose legend is written in ash and fire.

He reads of a cloaked warrior in white who once faced Styx in battle—but much of the truth is lost.
Burnt pages. Faded ink. A name obscured. A fate left unanswered.

He sees mentions of an impossible duel:
A white-cloaked warrior who stood alone against Styx.
A blade of light. A mask of black glass.

But the records are scorched, decayed—the truth lost in ash.
A name is nearly visible. A fate almost revealed.
But not yet.
The rest lies in ruin.
The rest must be remembered another day.

And as Stygian walks into the unknown, the book continues—not with him, but with Styx.

Two to three years have passed since the last chapter.
Styx has changed.

Above him looms a celestial scar—an eclipse that never ends.
Its core swells in shadow, but around its edges burns a faint violet corona, shimmering with deep purple flame, pulsing like a dying star.
It does not pass.
It hovers like a god’s eye—watching, feeding, and empowering him.

This eclipse is not merely a symbol.
It is a tether. A source of corruption.
A celestial wound that bleeds power into him.
And he accepts it.

He is no longer the man he was.

Once crowned in flowing blonde hair, now shaped in sharp, jagged strands as though seared by flame.
It falls behind him like fractured gold, regal but violent.

His eyes are hollow, but within them burns dominion—no color, no mercy.
Only command.

His face is calm but devoid of warmth—his expression shaped not by emotion, but by rule.

His right hand—from fingertips to forearm—is no longer flesh.
It is blackened, cracked like coal under pressure, and carved by glowing yellow veins that pulse violently like molten wires forced into skin.
The transformation is brutal—neither magical nor elegant, but forged through pain and permanence.
It is not an artifact—it is a consequence.

He walks with the burden of one who has surrendered to no one and nothing but power itself.
He is Styx—reborn through decay, sharpened by time, ruled by nothing but will.

Toward the end, the cloaked warrior returns.
Their first encounter is volatile—unfinished.
Their story is far from over.

This chapter is a parallax—
The past, present, and future folding into one.

What was once buried begins to rise.
And echoes, no matter how deep,
eventually return.

Ascension of the Sovereign: Styx III (1999-2000)

Parallax

Chiaroscuro

Vitiate (Prod. Antonie)

Harbinger

Penumbra (Prod. Antonie)

Continuing to grow and change as a whole and evolve each day. Conflicted with the light and dark. Member of Thy 🔮Guerrilla Records 🔮

https://linktr.ee/stygiansaint


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Parallax

Stygian Saint