The rift pulsed violently, its swirling energy illuminating the obsidian gates in a kaleidoscope of chaotic light. Shadows and flickers of alien landscapes danced within its core, promising wonders and terrors beyond comprehension. Around it, the battlefield was a maelstrom of conflict—Solen's radiant warriors clashing with Veyrith's shadow-forged creatures, while Kaelron's companions held the line against overwhelming odds.
Kaelron stood at the edge of the rift, his body thrumming with merging magic as the frost dragon and phoenix-dragon circled overhead, their powers holding back the rift's chaotic tendrils. His companions gathered behind him: Nyx, Zerin, and Eryk, each battered but resolute.
"This is madness," Nyx muttered, her daggers dripping with shadow-forged ichor. "You're saying we have to go into that thing?"
