The streets of Meridian pulsed with life, a city alive with flickering neon and the hum of machinery. Sirt moved like a shadow, weaving through the crowded alleys with practiced ease. His nimble fingers had just relieved a merchant of his heavy coin pouch, and the thrill of the heist still buzzed through his veins.
The city was a thief's playground—chaotic, sprawling, and unrelenting. But for Sirt, it was also a cage. Every stolen trinket, every whispered deal, every chase through the alleys reminded him of what he lacked: purpose.
It was on a night like this, as the city breathed its electric chaos, that Sirt's life veered off course. He had been fleeing a particularly persistent pair of enforcers when he stumbled into an alley he didn't recognize. Narrow and suffocating, it was unlike the countless shortcuts he'd memorized over the years.
The air grew colder as he ventured deeper, the din of the city fading into an eerie stillness. Then he saw it—a faint blue glow emanating from the far end of the alley.
Curiosity tugged at him, and Sirt stepped closer. At the center of the glow stood an archway carved from ancient stone, its surface etched with runes that pulsed with faint, otherworldly light. The portal hummed, low and steady, a sound that seemed to resonate in his chest.
Sirt hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to leave this strange artifact buried in the forgotten shadows of the city. But curiosity, that dangerous mistress, whispered otherwise.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered, stepping closer.
The moment his hand brushed the cold surface of the archway, the runes flared to life, and the air rippled around him. Before he could pull away, a force yanked him forward, dragging him through the portal.
Sirt landed hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. For a moment, he lay still, staring up at a sky that churned with ominous black clouds.
He sat up, his head pounding as he took in his surroundings. He was no longer in Meridian. The alley, the glowing portal—everything was gone.
Around him stretched a wasteland of crumbling ruins and dead trees. The remnants of grand castles and towers loomed in the distance, their jagged silhouettes casting shadows across the barren land. A dense fog clung to the ground, curling around his boots like living tendrils.
"What... where am I?" Sirt whispered, his voice swallowed by the oppressive silence.
A cold wind whipped through the air, carrying faint whispers. He couldn't make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable—warning and despair.
As he wandered through the ruins, Sirt's unease deepened. The ground beneath his feet felt wrong, as if some unseen force pulsed just below the surface. Then he saw it: a faint glow emanating from the earth. As he knelt to investigate, his hand brushed against a shard of crystal embedded in the dirt.
The moment he touched it, a jolt of energy surged through him. Images flashed in his mind—a world teeming with magic, people wielding incredible powers, and a looming darkness.
It wasn't long before she found him. The woman stepped out from the shadows, her cloak swirling around her like smoke. Her eyes, a piercing silver, locked onto him with unsettling intensity.
"You touched it, didn't you?" she asked, her voice cold.
Sirt scrambled back, the shard still clutched in his hand. "Who are you?"
"Elara," she said simply. "And that crystal you're holding—it's awakened something in you."
Sirt frowned, glancing at the shard. "What are you talking about?"
Elara crouched beside him, her gaze sharp. "This realm operates on a system of power. That shard is part of it. You're feeling its pull, aren't you?"
Sirt hesitated. He couldn't deny the strange warmth radiating from the shard or the way it seemed to hum in his hand. "Maybe."
She stood, gesturing for him to follow. "Then we need to move. You've triggered something, and they'll be coming for you now."
As they walked, Elara explained.
"In this realm, power comes in stages," she began. "It's drawn from the essence of the world itself—crystals like the one you found. We call it the Essence Cycle. Everyone starts at the bottom, as a Shardbearer. It's a minor connection to the realm's magic, barely enough to survive."
Sirt glanced at the shard in his hand. "And what's next?"
Elara's lips twitched into a grim smile. "If you survive long enough to master it, you'll become an Essence Wielder. That's when the magic truly starts to take shape—fire, ice, lightning. Whatever aligns with your soul."
"And after that?"
Her gaze darkened. "The next stage is Dominion. That's when you stop wielding the realm's magic and start bending it to your will. Very few reach that level."
Sirt raised an eyebrow. "And you?"
Elara didn't answer, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
Their conversation was cut short by a low growl. Ahead of them, the fog began to swirl, coalescing into shadowy forms.
"Shards attract them," Elara said, drawing a slim blade that shimmered with faint light. "They're called Wraithkin. Creatures born of corrupted magic. Stay close."
Sirt tightened his grip on the shard, his heart pounding.
The creatures attacked without warning, their movements swift and erratic. Elara moved like a dancer, her blade slicing through the shadows with precision. Sirt, untrained and unarmed, could only dodge and hope to survive.
One of the Wraithkin lunged at him, its claws inches from his throat. In a desperate move, he thrust the shard forward. The crystal flared with light, and the creature dissolved with a shriek.
Elara glanced at him, a hint of approval in her eyes. "Not bad. But if you want to live, you'll need to learn fast."
They reached the ruins of a library just as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the landscape. Inside, Elara led him to a hidden chamber filled with ancient texts and glowing artifacts.
"You want to survive? Then this is where it starts," she said, gesturing to the books. "Learn the basics. Master your shard. If you're lucky, you'll reach the first stage before the realm devours you."
Sirt stared at the pile of books, his mind racing. He'd spent his entire life running from danger, surviving by the skin of his teeth. But this... this was different.
He picked up a book, the pages filled with strange symbols and diagrams. "Fine," he said, determination flickering in his eyes. "Let's see what this shard can do."
Elara watched him with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Just don't get cocky, thief. This is only the beginning."
Outside, the shadows thickened, and the faint hum of the portal lingered in the distance, a reminder of the world he'd left behind—and the peril of the one he'd entered.
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