The shadows in Magnus's study seemed to grow more pronounced as the evening wore on. One lantern, flickering weakly on his desk, cast a warm orange glow over scattered maps and documents detailing the kingdom's borders-and their growing instability. His hands worked steadily, going over reports from his lands; his mind, however, was not so sedate.
Peace had been a hard-won prize for Magnus: after years of tyranny and turmoil, he had clawed his way back into the light, rebuilding his lands and his reputation. People no longer saw him as the cruel duke but as a leader who had known suffering and was dedicated to mending it. As the rifts grew in frequency, so too did the disquiet in his chest.
It began with whispers—soft, haunting murmurs that danced on the edge of hearing.
"You think you've escaped me, Magnus?"
He froze, the quill in his hand poised above the parchment. The voice was unmistakable, though it shouldn't have existed. Slowly, Magnus turned his head, his heart pounding in his chest.
The room was empty.
Or so it seemed.
The whispers grew louder with every passing moment of the night. By the time Magnus was leaving his study, the voice was more insistent, curling around him like smoke.
"Do you truly believe peace can absolve you? Do you think redemption erases what you've done?"
He knew the voice, and hearing it made his stomach twist. It belonged to Althea, the woman he had once loved and destroyed in his relentless pursuit of power. Althea, who had begged for mercy when he had none to give. Althea, whose death had been his greatest regret.
Magnus paused at the threshold of his chambers, gripping the door frame for support.
"This is a trick," he growled to himself. "Some fragment of the rifts' chaos, nothing more."
But the air grew cold, and when he turned, she was there.
Althea's ghostly form shimmered in the darkness, her eyes burning with the fire of accusation.
"You remember, don't you?" she said, her voice a haunting melody. "You remember how you betrayed me."
Magnus swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides. "You're not real," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Does that make my pain any less?" she asked, stepping closer. "Does that make you any less the monster you were?"
Magnus couldn't look away from her, the specter of his past. Memories he had buried clawed their way to the surface, of her laughter echoing in the halls of his castle, of her defiance as she stood against his tyranny, and of the tears streaking her face in those final moments.
"You don't understand," he said, his voice cracking. "I've changed. I've worked to undo the damage I caused."
Althea laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "You think rebuilding your lands will erase the blood you spilled? You think your people's forgiveness means anything when I still wander in torment?"
Her words struck deep, reopening wounds Magnus thought had healed. He sank into a nearby chair, his head in his hands.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered.
"I want you to remember," she said, her voice softer now. "Remember what you did. Remember who you were. And ask yourself—can a man like you truly deserve peace?"
The next morning, Magnus was a man haunted. His once-confident stride had been replaced by hesitation, his sharp commands softened by distraction. His closest advisors noticed the change, but none dared to question him directly.
Magnus knew he could not take this on by himself. He rode to the royal palace, to an audience with Vivienne and Cedric.
As he entered the great council chamber, Vivienne looked up from a map across the table. Her keen eyes immediately picked up the weariness in Magnus' features.
"What happened?" she asked, stepping forward.
Magnus hesitated, his pride warring with his need for help. Finally, he said, "The rifts are not just bringing fragments of discarded stories. They're bringing ghosts."
Cedric frowned, crossing his arms. "Ghosts?"
"Not in the traditional sense," Magnus clarified. "But echoes of the past, memories given form. Last night, I saw. her."
Vivienne's expression softened. "Althea?"
Magnus nodded. "She accused me of betrayal, of unworthiness. And she's not wrong. I've done terrible things, things I can't undo. But if these rifts are capable of manifesting the past, we must understand why."
Later, when Vivienne and Cedric were discussing Magnus' revelation, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the former tyrant. She had seen firsthand the effort he had poured into redeeming himself, and she knew the weight of guilt was a heavy burden to bear.
"Do you believe him?" Cedric asked.
Vivienne nodded. "I do. Magnus isn't the type to fabricate stories, especially not about something that clearly pains him.
Cedric sighed. "If these rifts can pull the past into our present, then they're more dangerous than we realized. We need to find the source of this chaos before it tears everything apart."
Vivienne agreed but couldn't help but wonder: Had this been a random incidence, or was there more in store with what happened between Magnus and Althea?
That night, Magnus returned to his castle, steeling himself for another encounter. He stood in the great hall, his voice echoing off the stone walls as he called out.
"Althea! If you're here, show yourself!"
The air grew cold, and she appeared, her form more defined than before.
"You summoned me?" she asked, her tone laced with mockery.
"I need answers," Magnus said, his voice firm. "Why now? Why are you here, after all this time?"
Althea's face altered, a flicker of sorrow crossing it. "Do you think I chose this? The rifts have brought me back, just as they've brought others. But perhaps it's fitting. Perhaps you need to face what you've done before this world collapses entirely."
Magnus stepped closer, eyes not leaving his face. "Then help me. If these rifts threaten aught but my tranquillity, I must understand them. Say what you know."
Althea regarded him in a silent moment, before acquiescing with a slight inclination of her head. "I'll be helping you, Magnus. Only, I want to see whether this man you claim yourself to be is really so."
For the first time in years, Magnus felt a flicker of hope-not just about his own redemption but possibly even about saving the world that had grown dear to him. With Althea's help, he began piecing together the connection between the rifts and the past, learning things that would prove vital to the kingdom's survival.
But even as they worked in concert, one question never strayed from Magnus's mind: Was Althea here to guide him, or to test him one last time?