Journal Entry
Day 0 of Exile.
The Luminous Forge Sect was supposed to be my home. A place of growth, strength, and purpose. Now its gates are closing behind me, and they'll never open again—not for me.
I wasn't cast out because I was weak. No, weakness is tolerated. I was exiled because I saw farther, reached deeper, and dared to touch what they feared. The Void.
They think they've broken me. But they don't realize—this is just the beginning.
---
Present Action: First-Person Narration
The gates groaned as they shut behind me, the sound of finality. Beyond them, the elders of the Luminous Forge Sect would return to their tranquil halls, content in their decision to cast me out. But I wasn't broken.
I stood there a moment, letting the weight of exile settle. The satchel slung over my shoulder felt heavier than it should—maybe because it carried everything I had left. My notes, my tools, and the fragment of my pride that refused to crumble.
"Caldrin," a familiar voice called.
I turned. Master Orin approached, his weathered face lined with disappointment and sorrow. His silver hair caught the light, a sharp contrast to the darkness I felt settling around me.
"You shouldn't have come," I said flatly.
"I couldn't let you leave without a word," Orin replied, stopping just short of the gates. "You were my brightest student. My most daring. And now you're…" He gestured to the road ahead. "This."
"An exile," I finished for him.
"A lesson," Orin corrected. "One I hoped you wouldn't have to learn."
I narrowed my eyes. "The only lesson here is that fear rules this sect. The elders are cowards, Orin. They're afraid of what I uncovered."
"They're afraid because they've seen what the Void can do," Orin said. His voice softened. "And they're right to fear it, Caldrin. The Void doesn't give power freely. It takes. It always takes."
"It takes from those too weak to control it," I snapped. "That's not me."
Orin sighed, reaching into his robes. He pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook—the one I thought I'd lost in the chaos of my trial. "I saved this for you," he said, handing it over. "Your theories, your notes. If you insist on walking this path, at least be prepared."
I took the notebook, my fingers tightening around it. "Thank you," I said after a pause.
"Caldrin," Orin said, his voice heavy. "This road you're on—it leads to power, yes. But it also leads to solitude. The kind that breaks even the strongest men."
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Better solitude than stagnation."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then Orin stepped back, his hand falling to his side. "Goodbye, Caldrin. May the Void spare you what it spared no one else."
I didn't watch him leave. Instead, I turned toward the horizon. The road stretched ahead, winding through the valleys and forests that surrounded the sect. Beyond them lay the Voidscar Wastes, where the whispers of the Rift called to me like a half-remembered dream.
'They'll see,' I thought as I took my first step. 'I'll make them see.'
---
The sun hung low in the sky as I walked, casting long shadows across the dirt path. My thoughts swirled, restless.
'The Void doesn't give freely.' Orin's words echoed in my mind, unwanted and unwelcome. He didn't understand. None of them did. What I'd uncovered in those ancient texts wasn't chaos or destruction—it was potential. Untapped and infinite.
I tightened my grip on the satchel, my mind wandering to the fragments of Void theory scribbled in my notebook. The energy I'd channeled during the experiment wasn't unstable because it was dangerous. It was unstable because it needed a stronger vessel.
'I'll become that vessel,' I thought.
The air around me shifted, breaking my thoughts. A rustling sound came from the trees to my left, faint but deliberate. My hand moved instinctively to the hilt of the dagger at my waist.
"Show yourself," I called, my voice steady.
A figure emerged from the shadows—a man in ragged clothes, his hood pulled low over his face. He carried a weathered pack slung over one shoulder and raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
"No need for trouble," he said, his voice smooth and casual.
"Then don't make any," I replied, not relaxing my grip on the dagger.
The man chuckled softly. "Fair enough. Though I have to admit, it's rare to see someone heading away from the Luminous Forge Sect." He tilted his head. "Exile?"
I didn't answer, but my silence was enough for him to guess.
"Thought so," he said, taking a step closer. "You've got the look. Ambitious. Reckless. Dangerous."
"What do you want?" I asked sharply.
"Just passing through," he said with a shrug. "But if you're heading east, let me give you a piece of advice: steer clear of the Riftlands. People don't come back from there."
"Maybe they're not strong enough," I said evenly.
The man's smile faltered, just for a moment. Then he nodded. "Maybe," he said. "Good luck, exile."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving me alone once more.
---
Journal Entry (Later That Night)
The first day of exile is behind me. The path east feels endless, but the whispers of the Rift grow louder with every step. They say the Void Rift is a scar on the world—a place where reality bends and breaks. But I don't see it as a wound. I see it as an opportunity.
The elders called me reckless. Dangerous. Maybe I am. But it's better to be dangerous than forgotten.