The world had changed, yet its scars remained.
Five years had passed since Kaelen's sacrifice, and the land was still haunted by the aftermath. The Rift had been sealed, yet its echoes lingered there, like a noisome stench beneath the surface of the earth. The demons were gone, their twisted forms consumed by the closure of the Rift, but there were whispers-whispers to stir the dark corners of the world. None dared speak it, yet they were always there, in every shadow, in every wind howling across ruins.
Adria stood upon the balcony of the rebuilt castle, her eyes weighted down by the crown now worn upon her head. The throne had come to her by default, an unwilling heiress to the kingdom her husband had once ruled with such fire. Yet, after all this time, she could still hear his voice. Everywhere was the reminder of Kaelen's presence-within the stone walls, within the very earth beneath her feet. His sacrifice, his legacy, was a shackle she could not break free from, even if she tried.
But she hadn't tried. She couldn't afford to.
Her hand was laid on the hilt of the sword that she no longer used in battles but as an emblem of authority. To the world, the death of Kaelen had meant the end of war, but Adria knew better. The Rift was never really sealed. It only waited. And she would be ready to meet whatever was next.
Behind her, the light tread of footsteps sounded, purposeful yet silent. At five years old, his features were a mix of both parents: Kaelen's intense gaze, her sharp cheekbones, and that set to the jaw-an air of determination that reminded her far too much of her late husband. Always curious, Elrian was one of those children who asked questions that delved deeper than any mother would wish to answer.
"Mother," Elrian's voice cut through her reverie. He stood beside her now, his small hand brushing the stone railing, his eyes to the horizon. "Do you think Father really was a tyrant? Everyone says he was."
The sound of his words twisted Adria's heart. "People speak of what they know," she said, cold but measured. "And they know only what they were told. The truth is far darker, Elrian. Your father wasn't a tyrant. He was a king. A king who gave everything to save this world, his life, his soul.
El'rian turned to face her, confusion furrowing his brows. "But why does everybody hate him? Why did he have to die?
Her gaze softened, but the sorrow in her eyes was undeniably there. She knelt before him, taking his small hand in hers. "Because, my son, the world cannot understand sacrifice. It only sees the aftermath, the pain, the blood. But your father… he carried the weight of it all. And in the end, he chose to carry it alone. That is the legacy of a king."
The words hung heavy and final in the air. And yet, with those words spoken, a part of her couldn't help but wonder whether she was actually doing enough to keep him safe from the very same fate. Elrian was his father's son, heir to the very legacy that would be a blessing and a curse.
Days passed, and the tension that clung to the kingdom seemed to grow thicker. Adria's days were consumed by political intrigues, invisible battles that everyone felt. Restless, always hungry for more power, the nobles stirred. Rebellion whispers began in the dark corners of the court and grew louder with each passing day.
But what really terrified her were the shards. The Rift was not gone, but withdrawn. Just as she and her advisors had feared, the seal that Kaelen had left was starting to break. Strange happenings had been reported: small tears in reality, short glimpses into the world beyond, strange creatures appearing from those forgotten corners. The Rift was trying to come back. But this time, no one knew if she could still stop it.
Late in the night, as Adria stood alone in her chambers, staring at the flickering flame of a single candle, a shadow crossed the room. She whirled around, her hand instinctively going to the sword at her side, but there was no one there.
Her heart raced on. Her mind screamed, but no sound escaped her lips.
Then the voice came—a whisper in the darkness, cold and familiar.
"Adria…"
As she swung to face the mirror opposite, her breath caught in her throat. It was her reflection staring back-warped, it is true-through the flickering light. But this was no mirroring of herself; it was a mirror to something else: Kaelen-standing at his glass cabinet but then dissolving like mist. All translucent, he had hollowed eyes, ghostly. A shade.
You should never have taken the crown," he spoke, low and haunted. "You cannot bear the weight of my sins. You cannot carry the burden of my choices."
Adria stepped back, her heart pounding against her chest. "You're not real. This is a trick of the Rift.
But in it, Kaelen's reflection only smiled-a sad, broken smile. "You think you can stop it? The Rift is still here, Adria. You can feel it, can't you? It is only a matter of time before it consumes everything."
"Enough!" Adria shouted, her hand trembling on the hilt of her sword. "I will not let it destroy everything. Not again.
But Kaelen's reflection began to fade, the dark figure becoming one with the shadows, his final words lingering in the air like a curse.
"You'll see, Adria. The Rift will come for you. It always does."
The next morning, Elrian found something-something that sent ice through Adria's veins. He came to her, his small hands shaking as he held a fragment in his palm. An orb-a shard of the Rift itself, that very thing which had almost rent the world asunder. The seal Kaelen had given everything to effect was failing.
Adria's heart stopped. Trying to conceal her panic, her eyes spoke volumes of her fear. "Where did you find this?" she asked, her voice strained.
Elrian hesitated. "I was in the old ruins by the edge of the kingdom. It was… calling to me. I think it wants me.
As she knelt before him, his hands giving her the fragment, her fingers shook, as did her breathing. She knew what it meant: what she had dreaded this whole while was finally here. The Rift was coming back, and with it, everything that was still festering in its bowels.
"I will not let it consume me," she whispered to herself, but even as she spoke, she knew the war was far from over.
Later that night, Adria was the only one present in the war room, staring up at the map of the kingdom, the fire dancing in the hearth and casting long shadows on the walls. She had to act. She had to protect her son, her kingdom, and the world Kaelen had sacrificed himself to save.
But at the back of her mind, one question nagged-one which, for some reason or other, she hadn't asked herself before now. What if it wasn't meant to seal the Rift?
The sound of Elrian's voice in her mind sliced through the dark, that innocent question so much a knife in her brain.
"Mother, do you think Father really was a tyrant?
And the truth-no matter how hard she tried to bury it-was that she didn't know. She didn't know if sealing the Rift had been the right choice. She didn't know if Kaelen's sacrifice had been enough. She didn't know what she was supposed to do now.
The legacy of a king was never easy to bear.
But now, the world was hers to save-or destroy.
The kingdom was unraveling before her. Adria could feel it in the air-the unrest beneath the surface, suffocating more with each day. The nobles whispered behind her back; the people murmured against her leadership, while the finding of the Rift fragment by Elrian weighted the air even further.
With time, days passed, and the fragment started glowing with some unnatural energy; it shone ever brighter. It was a living fragment, breathlessly waiting to awaken; that was the only feeling it gave her. At the edge of her mind, it called in soft whispers for something she did not catch. The deeper she delved into it, the more and more she felt it was as though the Rift spoke to her-through Elrian, through the mirror, through the very land itself.
Countless nights, Adria had studied the Rift, trying to understand it, trying to find a way to strengthen the seal Kaelen had left behind. She had consulted every ancient text and sought the wisdom of the few surviving scholars, but answers did not come. No one knew what Kaelen had truly done to close the Rift, and now she had only half-understood fragments of knowledge.
As the fateful evening wore on, the sun setting so that the shadows were cast long across the war room floor, Adria stood before the map once more, her thoughts in turmoil. El'goryn, still ignorant of the terrible truth behind his discovery, had grown distant of late. The child who once clung to her for comfort now stirred restlessly, drawn to the strange power of the Rift as a moth to flame. She could feel his unease, but what could she do? He was her son, but he was also the key to everything. He would have to understand the weight of the burden soon enough, whether she wanted it or not.
The Rift was coming back. And this time, it wasn't only the land that would burn; it would consume everything.
The storm arrived the following evening.
It began with a low rumble, like the world itself groaning under the weight of something unspeakable. The wind picked up, howling through the trees, bending them as if they were nothing more than fragile twigs. The skies darkened, heavy clouds swirling in unnatural patterns above the castle. It wasn't just a storm; it was a warning.
Adria stood in the throne room, her hand resting upon the hilt of the sword that was always at her side. She had sent scouts to scour the edges of the kingdom, hoping they might search out some omen of what was coming, but those messengers did not return. The darkness closed in, and she could feel it in her bones.
The door to the throne room creaked open, and Elrian entered, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. "Mother, it's here," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Adria turned to him, her heart heavy with dread. "What is it, Elrian?
He didn't say a word in response. Instead, he lifted his hand, in which the part of the Rift shone brilliant now, living almost. Crackling with energy in the air was the fragment pulsating on his palm, shining brighter second by second.
"No," Adria breathed, stepping backward. The seal was breaking; she could feel the pull of it, the trembling of the air as weight began to shift in the world.
Elrian," she said, trying to make her voice very strong, though a panic began to rise in her chest. "You got to listen to me. Do not let that thing control you. It will consume you, just like it consumed your father. You have to stay away from it!
But Elrian didn't appear to hear her. His eyes had gone glassy, his hand shaking with the fragment, now softly humming in resonance with the storm outside. The wind wailed louder, and with each gust, it was as if the castle shook, its very foundation being torn asunder.
Then, out of the howling wind, a voice cut through-low and dark-and it carried with it a promise of something far worse than anything they had encountered thus far.
"Elrian…"
It was a voice Adria had not heard in years, yet the moment it reached her ears, she knew it. Kaelen's voice.
"Elrian," the voice repeated now, much closer. It was not coming from the fragment. It was coming from everywhere.
Adria whirled, heart racing. "No, no, no…" Her mind raced in terror. Couldn't be. This can't be happening.
The air in the room suddenly grew cuttingly, extremely cold. Frost lined the stone walls, began crawling down and coating the sides of the chamber with an insidiously chilling mist; the outlines writhing out across the corner shadows changed as though they too moved under the commandment of something alive, dark and monstrous.
"Elrian!" Adria screamed, her voice breaking. "Snap out of it! It's not your father! It's the Rift!"
But Elrian didn't answer. His eyes were empty, fixed on something beyond her, something she couldn't see. The fragments in his hand started to pulse faster, the light blinding in its intensity. The wind outside shrieked, a maddened, guttural howl that ran a chill down Adria's spine.
And then, everything stopped.
The air went still, the storm outside dying away to nothing. Gone was the wind, the storm's fury little more than a memory. Still, in the silence, something else could be distinctly heard by Adria-a low, insidious laugh. It was not Kaelen's voice this time but something far darker, far older-ancient in its malice.
The Rift had found a new way to return.
A strong, agonizing pull tore at Adria's soul, like the world itself was trying to tear her from the inside out. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath, her body shaking with the force of the dark power surrounding them. The Rift had already started seeping into their world-through Elrian, through the fragment.
"No!" Adria screamed, her voice smothered by the weight of the oppressive power that was clamping down upon them, crushing everything in its path.
"Elrian, no!" she cried again, reaching out to her son, but it was too late.
Standing before her, pale and shaking, was not the child she had brought up. It was something else-something so much more dangerous.
The Rift had taken him.
In that moment, Adria understood the magnitude of Kaelen's sacrifice. He had not sealed the Rift. He had merely delayed it. And now, with the blood of a king running through Elrian's veins, the Rift would come again, stronger than ever.
The battle was no longer about stopping the Rift. It was about surviving it.
And Adria knew-she was alone.