The air grew heavier as Solstice ventured away from the ruins of the anchor, each step weighed down by the Harbinger's ominous message. The cracks in the sky above shimmered faintly, as if mocking his every move. He didn't know where he was going—there was no clear destination, only the nagging sense that staying still would invite something far worse.
As the horizon stretched endlessly before him, a faint hum reached his ears. It wasn't the wind or the echo of the Void—it was rhythmic, deliberate, like a faint heartbeat resonating in the earth. Solstice paused, his hand reflexively gripping the hilt of his sword.
He crouched down, pressing his hand to the ground. The pulse beneath his palm grew stronger, a strange, otherworldly energy coursing through the soil. It wasn't hostile, but it wasn't natural either.
"Something's here," he muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the barren wasteland.
The hum grew louder. Then, without warning, a fissure opened a few paces ahead of him. Light poured out, golden and fierce, as though the sun itself had been trapped beneath the surface. The ground quaked violently, forcing Solstice to steady himself.
From the fissure, a figure emerged.
Unlike the Harbinger, who had exuded an ethereal calm, this being radiated power. Cloaked in flowing robes of deep crimson, the figure stepped forward with an air of calculated confidence. Their face was obscured by a gilded mask, its design intricate and ancient, as though it had been forged in a time long forgotten. In one hand, they held a staff that pulsed with the same golden light as the fissure.
"Solstice," the figure said, their voice echoing unnaturally, as though a thousand others whispered in unison. "The Watcher's chosen successor."
Solstice straightened, his hand tightening around his blade. "Who are you? Another messenger?"
The figure chuckled, the sound hollow and reverberating. "A messenger? No. I am something far more… involved. You may call me the Riftwalker."
"Riftwalker?" Solstice frowned, his gaze narrowing. "What do you want?"
The Riftwalker tilted their head, the light from their staff dimming slightly. "I have come to offer you a choice. The Harbinger spoke of cycles, of inevitability, did she not?"
Solstice didn't respond. He could still hear the Harbinger's voice in his mind, her cryptic warnings, her talk of fate and reckoning.
The Riftwalker took another step closer, their presence both commanding and oppressive. "But what she failed to mention," they continued, "is that cycles can be broken."
Solstice's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"Every story, every world, every thread of existence is bound by the laws of its own design," the Riftwalker explained, their tone patient, almost teacher-like. "But those laws are not absolute. They can be rewritten, bent, or shattered—if one has the will and the knowledge."
"You're saying I can stop this," Solstice said slowly, his mind racing. "Stop the Void, the reckoning, all of it?"
The Riftwalker's silence was heavy, their mask unreadable. Then, with a slight nod, they replied, "In theory, yes. But such a feat comes at a cost."
"What kind of cost?" Solstice asked, his voice sharp.
The Riftwalker raised their staff, and the golden light flared, creating a vivid image in the air between them. Solstice saw himself, surrounded by faces he didn't recognize—warriors, mages, beings of immense power. But their expressions were grim, their postures tense. Behind them loomed an incomprehensible shadow, its form ever-shifting, its presence suffocating.
"You would need to gather allies," the Riftwalker said. "Ones who can stand beside you against the forces that bind this world. You would need to venture beyond the edges of what you know, into realms where even the Void fears to tread."
Solstice stared at the image, his jaw tightening. "And if I don't?"
The Riftwalker waved their staff, and the image shifted. This time, Solstice saw himself alone, standing amidst a sea of ruins. The cracks in the sky had widened, and the Void had consumed everything. He saw his own face, etched with despair and exhaustion, as the shadow loomed ever closer.
"If you do nothing," the Riftwalker said, their voice tinged with cold finality, "the cycles will continue. The Void will return, stronger than before. And eventually, there will be nothing left to fight for."
Solstice clenched his fists, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The Harbinger had spoken of destiny, of burdens he could not escape. But now the Riftwalker was telling him that escape was possible—though the path was fraught with danger and uncertainty.
"What's in it for you?" he asked, his tone cautious. "Why are you helping me?"
The Riftwalker hesitated, their masked face tilting downward for a moment. When they spoke again, their voice was quieter, almost wistful. "Because I, too, am bound by the cycles. And because I see in you a chance to change what I could not."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Solstice studied the Riftwalker, trying to discern the truth behind their enigmatic presence. But the golden light of the fissure offered no answers, only more questions.
Finally, Solstice exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. "If I agree to this… where do I even start?"
The Riftwalker raised their staff again, and the fissure at their feet widened, revealing a swirling portal of light and shadow. "Step through," they said simply. "The first of your allies awaits. But be warned—this journey will test you in ways you cannot imagine. Not all who stand beside you will survive."
Solstice hesitated, his gaze flickering between the portal and the Riftwalker. Every instinct told him to turn away, to walk in the opposite direction and leave this madness behind. But the image of the ruins, of the endless darkness, lingered in his mind.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "If there's even a chance to stop this… I'll take it."
Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, the light of the portal swallowing him whole.
The Riftwalker watched in silence as the fissure closed behind him, the golden glow fading into darkness. For a moment, the air was still. Then, with a quiet sigh, they turned away, their staff dimming as they disappeared into the shadows.
Far beyond the veil of worlds, Solstice's journey had only just begun.