All will be lost.
The words echoed in her mind, reverberating with the weight of every sacrifice made thus far. Tarasynora stared down at Elara's still form, her heart clenched with fierce, unrelenting pain. Her breath caught in her throat, every instinct screaming at her to stay, to hold her friend and mourn, to let the sorrow consume her. But she couldn't. Not yet.
With trembling hands, she gently laid Elara on the ground, her fingers lingering on her friend's brow for a final moment. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she fought to keep the tears at bay. "I'll carry you with me. Always."
Rising to her feet, Tarasynora wiped the tears from her face, though the sorrow still clung to her like a second skin. Her magic thrummed beneath her fingertips, waiting—demanding—to be used. She felt the pull of it, a vast ocean of power swirling within her, and with a deep breath, she embraced it.
The ground trembled as she channeled her energy into the Shift, her magic weaving into the threads of reality that were unraveling around them. The sky above tore open, and the light of the new world—the world they had fought and bled for—spilled through the cracks.
But the price was high. She could feel it in the land itself, in the cries of the dying and in the hollow ache of her heart. The magic demanded a toll, a toll she knew they couldn't avoid. This new world would come at the cost of the old, and those who had given their lives to see it come to pass would never walk its lands.
As the great landmass of Hiraeth began to lift into the sky, made weightless by the gravity magic of the Luminar, Tarasynora prayed to the Great Spirit that they had done enough. All of the Hiraethians had anchored themselves to the land to ensure safe passage through the Rift and onward to the distant world known as Earth.
Their enemies, however, had not. The invaders—those who sought to take Hiraeth for themselves—would still be anchored to the lands they came from. They didn't know the intricacies of Anchoring, a boon for the Hiraethians. Once they entered the Rift, their pursuers would be forcibly yanked back to their homeworlds, unaware of their inevitable demise.
Tarasynora stood at the center of the battlefield, her arms outstretched as she poured the last of her strength into the Shift. Magic surged through her, burning through her veins, threatening to tear her apart. The intensity was overwhelming, a scorching heat that seared her insides, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop—not until it was done.
Her vision blurred, and her body shook from the effort, but finally—mercifully—the Shift completed. The breach sealed shut behind them, the air around them stilled, and the monsters were no more. Silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the faint whisper of the wind. They had made it. They were in the Rift.
Blood-curdling screams sounded from all around as the breach closed and the anchors of their enemies pulled them to their deaths. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that now the fighting would be over.
Moments later Tarasynora saw the opposite side of the Rift, the cloudy white and gray wall stretching up and away as far as the eye could see. A breach began opening in that same wall as the people of Hiraeth focused and followed the plan. Tarasynora waited with bated breath, fearing that at any moment something was going to go wrong.
The weight of the moment settled on her. Their homeworld was gone, and the sacrifices made today would be felt for generations. As Tarasynora stood among the ruins of war, the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting. They had succeeded in their desperate bid for survival, but at what cost? Elara. Thousands of others. How many more?
As the landmass of Hiraeth made it's way through the breach and into Earth's atmosphere, a deep rumbling suddenly shook the ground beneath them, and her heart sank. The Luminar, whose gravitational powers had stabilized the Shift, faltered. One by one, they collapsed, their bodies overwhelmed by the strain. The Shift had taken more from them than they had anticipated.
Everything began to quake more violently, like an earthquake on an apocalyptic scale. The Luminar, their bodies failing, had lost control over the gravity fields. The landmass of Hiraeth trembled, shaking apart as the remaining Luminar, desperate to salvage the situation, overextended themselves. And then—chaos.
Gravity waves, like unseen tsunamis, tore across Hiraeth. The world twisted in on itself as people were thrown into the air or crushed to the ground by the chaotic flux. Screams filled the air as entire sections of the land were torn apart, some sent careening into the abyss, others crashing down into the vast oceans below.
Tarasynora's breath caught as she screamed to those around her, urging them to flee. "Follow me!" she shouted, her voice lost in the pandemonium. She sprinted towards the nearby wood line, her heart hammering in her chest. The message spread quickly through the warriors still standing, and soon, everyone who could was running, hobbling, crawling, or being carried toward the trees.
With a powerful leap, Tarasynora propelled herself dozens of feet into the air, landing heavily on the thick branch of a towering tree. She clung to it with all her might, wrapping her arms around the trunk as another violent wave of gravity tore through the forest. Her muscles strained, her knuckles white as she held on, listening to the screams of those who hadn't made it in time.
She shut her eyes, her tears flowing freely now, weeping for the countless souls lost. The cries of the dying, the terrified, echoed all around her, a cacophony of despair. She prayed silently, hoping that those who had managed to reach the trees would survive. But she feared the worst—hundreds of millions lived on Hiraeth, and now, so many were gone.
Tarasynora tightened her grip on the branch, bracing herself for the next wave. She would endure. She had to. But the question that burned in her mind, the thought that haunted her now, was simple and cruel: How many more would they lose before it was over?