King stood alone in the heart of the rift, his breath heavy as the pulsing stone in his hand cast eerie shadows across the swirling darkness. The creature wearing Valjean's face had retreated, but its presence still loomed in the air, lurking just beyond the light.
He had been so close—he had touched her, seen the flicker of recognition in her eyes. But whatever had taken her was stronger, more dangerous than anything he had faced before.
"I won't let the rift have you," he whispered to himself, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness. The resolve in his heart burned hotter than ever, but the way forward was unclear. The swirling darkness ahead of him shifted, constantly moving, as if it were alive—waiting for his next move.
He had two choices: escape while he still could or dive deeper into the abyss to find her. And for King, there was no real choice at all.
He would not leave without Valjean.
Summoning every ounce of courage, King tightened his grip on the stone and stepped forward, deeper into the darkness. The air around him grew colder, thicker, almost suffocating, as if the rift itself was trying to swallow him whole. The shadows seemed to move closer, drawn to the faint light from the stone.
Every step felt like a battle. His instincts screamed at him to turn back, but he silenced the fear. He had already chosen this path, and now there was no turning back.
As he ventured deeper, King's mind raced. The rift had always been a place of power, a source of darkness that twisted the world around it. But what he didn't understand was how it had latched onto Valjean so completely. What had the rift seen in her? Why had it claimed her, and not him?
Suddenly, the ground beneath him shifted, and the shadows surged forward, almost as if the rift sensed his doubts. The darkness snapped at him, cold tendrils wrapping around his ankles, pulling him down. King stumbled, barely managing to catch himself before the shadows could drag him deeper.
The stone in his hand flared brighter, sending a wave of light through the darkness, pushing the tendrils back. But the attack had left him shaken.
He needed answers. And fast.
King forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling as he continued forward. The air grew even colder, and the oppressive weight of the rift bore down on him with every step. But then, in the distance, he saw something—a flicker of movement, barely noticeable against the swirling shadows.
It was Valjean.
Or at least, it looked like her.
She stood still, her back to him, her form barely visible through the shifting darkness. But this time, there was something different. She wasn't a creature of the rift. She didn't seem twisted or corrupted.
"Valjean…" King called out, his voice soft, almost pleading. He took a tentative step toward her, his heart pounding. "Valjean, it's me. It's King."
She didn't move. She stood motionless, as though she hadn't heard him. King's chest tightened, and he took another step, the light from the stone barely illuminating the space between them.
"Please… just turn around," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I know you're in there."
For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. The shadows around her remained still, and King's heart sank. But just as he was about to give up, her head turned ever so slightly. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his.
And for the first time since he had entered the rift, King saw her clearly. It was Valjean—not the twisted shadow version of her, but the real Valjean. Her eyes were wide and frightened, her face pale, but there was no malice, no darkness consuming her.
"King?" Her voice was small, barely a whisper, but it was her. It was really her.
King's breath caught in his throat, and he rushed forward, his heart pounding with hope. "Valjean, I'm here. I came for you. I—"
But as he reached her, the ground beneath them shifted again, and the darkness surged with renewed intensity. Valjean's eyes widened in fear, and she took a step back, her hand reaching out for him.
"No!" she cried, her voice trembling. "Stay back, King. It's not safe!"
"What? No, I'm not leaving you!" King shouted, confusion and panic warring in his mind. He reached for her hand, but the moment their fingers touched, a shock of cold energy coursed through him, forcing him to stumble backward.
Valjean shook her head, her eyes filled with terror. "You can't stay here, King. The rift—it's alive. It's feeding off me, off us. If you stay, it'll take you too!"
King's mind reeled. He had come all this way, fought through the darkness, only to find out that the rift itself was what was keeping her trapped.
"Then we'll destroy it," King said, his voice filled with desperate determination. "We'll find a way to break it, to close it for good. Together."
Valjean's face softened for a moment, but there was no hope in her eyes. "You don't understand," she whispered, shaking her head. "It's not just a tear in the world. It's a part of me now. I can feel it. I'm holding it together. If I leave—if I break free—this entire world will collapse."
King's heart sank, his mind struggling to grasp what she was saying. "That can't be true. There has to be another way."
"There isn't," Valjean said, her voice barely a breath. "I'm the anchor, King. The rift… it's bound to me. If I go, everything goes."
King stared at her, the weight of her words crashing down on him. The rift had consumed her completely, not just her body, but her very essence. She wasn't just trapped—she was the rift.
"No," King said, shaking his head, his voice breaking. "No, that's not possible. You're stronger than this, Valjean. We've always fought through everything together. This isn't where it ends."
Valjean's eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, she looked like she might believe him. But then, the darkness surged again, and she winced, clutching her chest as if in pain.
"I'm sorry, King," she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow. "But I can't go back. Not this time."
King's breath caught in his throat. His mind raced, searching for a solution, anything that could save her, that could stop the rift from consuming her completely. But there was nothing.
"I need you to go," Valjean said softly, tears streaming down her face. "You can't stay here. The rift will take you too if you do."
"I'm not leaving you!" King shouted, his voice filled with anguish. "I can't—"
Suddenly, the ground beneath him shifted again, more violently this time. The rift surged, the shadows swirling around them like a storm. Valjean cried out in pain, and King fell to his knees as the world around them began to break apart.
"You have to go!" Valjean shouted, her voice barely audible over the roar of the rift. "Please, King! If you don't leave now, you'll be lost too!"
King's heart shattered, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. He had come to save her, but there was nothing left to save. The rift had taken her—had bound her to its very existence. If he stayed, they would both be lost.
"I'm sorry," Valjean whispered, her voice breaking as the rift's power surged around them. "I love you, King. But you have to live."
And then, before King could respond, the ground beneath him gave way, and he was swallowed by the swirling darkness.