The narrow mountain path twisted upward, its jagged edges carved by ancient forces long forgotten. Dark clouds churned above, blotting out the sun and painting the world in shades of ash and gray. Kael moved swiftly, his cloak snapping in the wind, Eidolon glowing faintly at his side. The girl, whom he now called Liora for lack of a better name, trailed behind him. Her steps were hesitant, her violet-silver eyes darting nervously at the shadows shifting in the mist.
"Keep up," Kael called over his shoulder.
Liora quickened her pace, clutching the hem of her tattered dress. "Where are we going? You haven't told me anything since we left the ruins."
"To the Rift," Kael replied, his voice grim. "Where your past and my blade will find answers."
"The Rift…" Liora whispered, the name rolling off her tongue like a curse. "They say it devours those who look into it."
"Then don't look too deeply," Kael muttered.
The air grew heavier as they climbed, thick with the scent of sulfur and decay. The whispers had returned, more insistent now, clawing at the edges of Kael's mind. He clenched his teeth, forcing the voices aside. They had grown louder since his encounter with the hooded figure, their words clearer but still maddeningly cryptic.
"Bearer of the blade…"
Kael's grip on Eidolon tightened. He had no time for riddles. He had to focus—Liora's presence had already complicated matters. She was more than she appeared, and until he knew exactly what, she was a danger to herself and everyone else.
Ahead, the path opened into a windswept plateau. A jagged chasm split the ground, a gaping wound in the earth that pulsed with dark energy. The Rift. It was larger than Kael had imagined, a swirling maelstrom of shadows and light that seemed to breathe with malevolent intent. Fragments of memories, ghostly and half-formed, swirled within its depths, their cries of pain and longing audible only to those attuned to its power.
Liora stopped at the edge, her eyes wide with fear. "It's alive…" she whispered.
"It's hungry," Kael corrected. "And it won't wait long."
He drew Eidolon, the blade's runes flaring to life. The hum of its power resonated with the Rift, a connection that sent a jolt through his arm. He fought to steady his hand as the memories within the Rift reached for the blade like drowning souls clawing for salvation.
"What are you doing?" Liora asked, her voice rising.
"Calling it," Kael answered. "Every shard of power carries a fragment of the past. The Rift can show us the truth."
As he spoke, shadows coalesced at the chasm's edge, forming into twisted shapes. They resembled the Shattered but were darker, their forms flickering like the dying embers of forgotten dreams. They surged toward Kael and Liora, their eyes burning with hunger.
Kael stepped forward. "Stay behind me."
He swung Eidolon in a wide arc, the blade cleaving through the nearest creature. The essence of its form dissolved into tendrils of memory, drawn into the sword. Kael winced as images flooded his mind—a dying king, a broken oath, and a woman's tear-streaked face. He shoved the memories aside, focusing on the next enemy.
The shadows pressed closer, their numbers growing. Kael fought with the precision of a seasoned Keeper, his blade an extension of his will. Each strike consumed more of the fragmented souls, and each memory weighed heavier on his mind.
Behind him, Liora knelt by the Rift, her hand trembling as she reached toward the swirling void. The whispers called to her, seductive and insistent. "Come closer… remember…"
"Liora!" Kael shouted. "Get back!"
But it was too late. Her fingers brushed the edge of the Rift, and a surge of energy exploded outward. Kael was thrown backward, his grip on Eidolon slipping. The world around him dissolved into darkness.
When the light returned, Kael found himself standing in a place he did not recognize. The air was thick with mist, and the ground beneath his feet was covered in shattered glass that reflected broken memories. Liora stood nearby, her eyes wide with terror as ghostly figures circled her, their faces flickering between joy and anguish.
Kael reached for Eidolon, but the blade was gone. The figures turned toward him, their eyes hollow and filled with endless sorrow.
"Kael Ardyn," they whispered, their voices like the rustling of dead leaves. "You carry the weight of countless lives. Will you bear more?"
"I didn't ask for this," Kael said, his voice raw.
"None do," the voices replied. "But choice is an illusion. The Rift hungers… and it has chosen you."
The figures lunged.