The cab glided through the bustling streets of Arkasol, weaving between other hover vehicles that zipped past in streaks of neon light. Towering skyscrapers loomed overhead, their surfaces adorned with holographic advertisements that flickered and shifted. Despite the chaos of the city, Eziel couldn't shake the weight of the Riftcore in his pocket. Its pulse seemed to sync with his heartbeat, a constant reminder of the danger he now carried.
Beside him, the orc slumped against the seat, his massive frame barely fitting into the cramped vehicle. Blood seeped through the cracks in his battered armor, staining the already dingy upholstery. Eziel glanced at him, debating whether to press for more answers. The Riftcore's importance was clear, but the orc's involvement—and the forces pursuing them—remained a mystery.
"You didn't tell me your name," Eziel said, breaking the tense silence.
The orc opened one eye, his green iris glowing faintly in the dim light. "Boran," he grunted. "Not that it matters. We're probably dead men anyway."
"Well, Boran," Eziel replied, leaning back with a smirk, "I've survived worse. Though I'll admit, shadow monsters and cursed artifacts are new even for me."
Boran let out a humorless laugh, then winced as pain shot through his side. "You have no idea what you've gotten into, human. That Riftcore isn't just any artifact—it's a fragment of something much older, much darker. The Voidborn will stop at nothing to reclaim it."
Eziel frowned, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of his rune-etched dagger. "What are the Voidborn, really? I've heard stories—remnants of dead worlds, creatures born from the rifts—but nothing concrete."
"They're worse than the stories," Boran said, his voice low. "When the Shattering happened, it didn't just tear open our world. It destroyed countless others, and the Voidborn are what crawled out of the ruins. They consume, corrupt, and spread—like a disease. The Riftcore is a piece of their power, and anyone who wields it risks becoming like them."
Eziel's grip tightened on his dagger. "Then why were you carrying it?"
Boran hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Because if we don't keep it out of their hands, they'll use it to finish what they started."
The cab jolted to a stop, jarring both men from the conversation. The driver turned to glare at them. "Lower Crescent Ward," he announced curtly. "That'll be fifty creds."
Eziel tossed a handful of coins onto the dashboard, then helped Boran out of the vehicle. The Lower Crescent Ward was a stark contrast to the gleaming upper levels of Arkasol. The streets were narrow and cluttered, the buildings worn and patched with mismatched materials. Flickering streetlights cast uneven shadows, and the air buzzed with the hum of illicit activity.
"We need a safe place," Boran said, leaning heavily on Eziel. "Somewhere they won't find us."
Eziel scanned the surroundings, his eyes landing on a nondescript doorway tucked between a pawnshop and a noodle stand. A faded sign above the door read "Caldwell's Curiosities." It was a shop he had frequented in the past—a treasure trove of rare magical items and forbidden knowledge, run by a reclusive but trustworthy elf named Lysara Caldwell.
"This way," Eziel said, guiding Boran toward the shop. He rapped on the door in a familiar rhythm, and after a moment, the heavy wooden panel creaked open.
Lysara appeared in the doorway, her sharp features framed by silver hair that shimmered like moonlight. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the pair, lingering on Boran's injuries and the faint glow of the Riftcore in Eziel's pocket.
"Eziel," she said, her tone a mixture of curiosity and exasperation. "What trouble have you brought to my doorstep this time?"
"The usual," Eziel replied with a wry grin. "Life-threatening artifacts, murderous shadow creatures, and a half-dead orc. Can we come in?"
Lysara sighed and stepped aside, allowing them to enter. The shop's interior was as cluttered and eclectic as Eziel remembered. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with artifacts, spellbooks, and trinkets from across the multiverse. A faint, otherworldly glow emanated from several objects, casting an eerie light over the room.
"Lay him on the table," Lysara instructed, pointing to a sturdy wooden surface near the back. Eziel helped Boran onto it, then stepped back as Lysara began to examine the orc's wounds.
"Void-tainted magic," she muttered, her fingers tracing the blackened edges of a gash on Boran's side. "This isn't easy to heal. Whatever attacked him, it wasn't fully corporeal."
"No kidding," Eziel said, crossing his arms. "What about the Riftcore? Can you tell me what we're dealing with?"
Lysara straightened, wiping her hands on a cloth. She fixed Eziel with a stern gaze. "You're dealing with something you should have left alone. The Riftcore is a fragment of the Voidheart, a nexus of unimaginable power. It's not just dangerous—it's a beacon. Every Voidborn within the city will be drawn to it."
"Perfect," Eziel muttered. "Any advice on how to stop them?"
Lysara's expression softened slightly. "There may be a way, but it won't be easy. The Voidheart's fragments are connected, and if you can locate another piece, you might be able to use their resonance to create a barrier. But doing so would require venturing into places even more dangerous than Arkasol's underbelly."
Boran groaned, his voice weak but determined. "We don't have a choice. If we don't stop them, the entire city—maybe the entire world—will fall."
Eziel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, fine. Where do we start?"
Lysara moved to a shelf and retrieved a worn map, its surface marked with strange symbols and notations. She spread it across the table, her finger tracing a path to a location deep within the Riftspire Forest, a place Eziel had only heard of in hushed whispers.
"The Riftspire Forest," Lysara said. "It's the closest known site of a Riftcore shard. But be warned—it's a place where the boundaries between dimensions are thin. Strange things happen there, and few who enter ever return."
Eziel smirked, his eyes glinting with a mix of determination and reckless confidence. "Sounds like my kind of adventure."
Boran managed a faint chuckle, though his face remained pale. "You're either brave or insane, human."
"Probably both," Eziel replied, tucking the map into his coat. "Get some rest. We leave at dawn."
As Lysara began preparing a restorative potion for Boran, Eziel stepped outside to clear his mind. The streets of the Lower Crescent Ward were quieter now, the usual hustle and bustle replaced by an uneasy stillness. He leaned against the wall, pulling the Riftcore from his pocket. Its glow was mesmerizing, and for a moment, he felt as though he could hear whispers emanating from within.
"Whatever you are," he murmured, "you'd better be worth the trouble."
Unbeknownst to him, a pair of crimson eyes watched from the shadows, their owner retreating silently into the night.