The storm raged, but Rayzorth's greater fear was the silence that would follow his death.
Standing at the edge of the ancient cliff, his frail silhouette was a lone figure against the churning sky. Thunder rolled like the tolling of a great bell, a dirge for his fading life. The wind howled, tearing at his tattered robes as though trying to drag him back from the precipice. Yet, he stood firm. His dim eyes burned with determination, though the spark of his once-formidable strength was little more than a flickering ember now.
The cracked and barren earth beneath him seemed to groan under the weight of the storm. Lightning streaked across the heavens, illuminating his gaunt form and the sleek black shape pacing at his feet. Nissa, his ever-loyal familiar, radiated energy despite the oppressive gloom. Her green eyes glowed like twin lanterns, catching the flickers of light as she moved with the fluid grace only a feline could muster.
She paused, her tail flicking as she eyed the fluttering strands of his robe. With a swipe of her paw, she caught the loose fabric, her claws snagging it with precision. Satisfied with her mischief, she settled onto her haunches and began grooming herself, licking her paw like the raging storm was nothing more than an inconvenience.
"Master, you look troubled," her voice echoed softly in his mind, a calm tether amidst the chaos.
Rayzorth exhaled, his breath curling into mist. "Troubled? No, Nissa. Resigned. My time has run its course." He gestured to the swirling storm. "The power I wield has kept the darkness at bay, and without it, this world will fall. Humanity teeters on the edge of annihilation."
Nissa's ears flattened against her head. Her tail lashed in agitation as she began circling his legs, brushing against him insistently. "Then we must find another way. There is always hope."
Rayzorth offered a faint smile, though it failed to reach his tired eyes. His gaze shifted upwards, lingering on the dark heavens above the storm clouds. Somewhere beyond that unreachable expanse, in realms untouched by mortal decay, his ancestors waited—luminaries who had transcended the bounds of this world.
But not him. Never him.
"It is a bitter irony, Nissa," he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow and resentment. "Even as I stand on the threshold of death, I am denied the solace of joining those who came before me." He closed his eyes, letting the weight of his failure press down on him. "To ascend is to relinquish all earthly ties—to end life as it was meant to end. I have defied that order for centuries. The power that sustained me has also chained me here."
Nissa stopped her pacing, her green eyes lifting to his face. Her voice was quiet, almost tentative. "Perhaps this world still has need of you. Or perhaps the higher realms wait for something more, something we cannot see."
Rayzorth's lips tightened. The truth was, he didn't know. Perhaps it was punishment for extending his unnatural life. Perhaps his deeds, for all their righteousness, had never been enough. Or perhaps there was no reason at all.
He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "Whether I am judged or forgotten, it matters not now. This world must be my only concern. The rest is… irrelevant."
Nissa watched him for a moment, her ears twitching, but said nothing. She knew better than to argue when his resolve hardened.
His gaze shifted to the roiling river of time stretching before him. Its shimmering currents twisted and turned, reflecting countless possibilities. Slowly, he sifted through its depths, his mind brushing against threads of potential lives—some bright but fragile, others dark and twisted beyond redemption. None of them held the balance he sought.
Until he found her.
Maya Rath. A young noblewoman of the Rath family, her presence in the river burned like a steady flame amidst the chaos. Rayzorth watched her life unfold: the precise arc of her sword as she trained tirelessly in her family's grand hall, the unerring accuracy of her arrows, the measured stillness as she fired a flintlock pistol. Beyond her martial prowess, she was a beacon of compassion. She distributed food to the poor, spoke with the downtrodden as equals, and led her people with strength tempered by kindness. Every action of hers spoke of balance—strength guided by empathy, justice softened by mercy.
Rayzorth's chest tightened with hope. "She is the one," he whispered, his voice filled with relief and urgency. "The future's light."
For centuries, he had searched for someone worthy to bear the Wings of Power. He had fathered children across the world, hoping his bloodline would yield an heir strong enough to inherit his legacy. Yet each attempt ended in disappointment—some lacked strength, while others were morally corrupt. The failures had forced him to abandon his lineage and search beyond his existing blood. He had nearly given up.
Until now.
"Even among my current progeny," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow, "there is no one who can wield the power. I must trust the future holds the answer we seek."
Nissa's green eyes softened as she peered up at him. She stretched forward, resting a paw lightly on his foot. "Then let us hope your faith in tomorrow is not misplaced."
Rayzorth closed his eyes, his resolve hardening. "It must not be."
With a final breath, he ignited the remnants of his life force. Veins of light shimmered across his gaunt body, glowing brighter with each heartbeat. The energy surged, illuminating the cliffside as he reached out to the unseen threads of reality. Grasping them tightly, he began to weave a bridge across time, threading his will into the vast river.
The storm intensified. The air vibrated with raw magic, and the cliff trembled beneath him. Nissa crouched low, her ears pinned back as the currents of power swirled around them. A low growl rumbled in her throat as she watched, her green eyes wide with both awe and sorrow.
"Goodbye, Nissa," Rayzorth's voice echoed in her mind.
His form dissolved into pure energy, his consciousness plunging into the river of time. The currents dragged him forward, hurtling him toward the future—and toward Maya Rath's radiant light. Each heartbeat brought him closer to hope, closer to salvation.
Then, the shadow came.
It struck without warning, a cold and malevolent force surging through the river. The time wraith lunged, its claws slicing into Rayzorth's will. Pain erupted as it tore at him, seeking to obliterate his essence. Desperate, he shed fragments of his power, scattering them like stars flung into the void. Each fragment drifted away, their fates unknown.
What remained of Rayzorth's will clung to Maya's mind, slipping into hibernation just as the wraith lunged for a final strike.
His fading thoughts echoed through the river:
Maya, you are our last chance. The future of humanity rests in your hands.