The rifts came without warning... and when they did?
They tore the world apart.
It started with a tremor, almost imperceptible but always there — a subtle reminder that the earth itself was not safe.
Then came the silence. Animals fled, winds died, and for a few eerie moments, the world held its breath.
The sky fractured next, splitting open with jagged streaks of light that burned and shimmered like molten glass.
These rifts were no mere phenomena.
They were wounds in the fabric of reality, gaping holes that linked the mortal world to chaotic, incomprehensible realms beyond human comprehension or anything the universe had ever seen before.
From their depths poured horrors: twisted beasts with multiple eyes and limbs that bent in unnatural ways, creatures cloaked in shadow and fire, and the unmistakable stench of corruption that followed in their wake.
It was hell on earth.
The land near the rifts didn't just suffer — it rotted. Trees warped into grotesque, thorny shapes, animals mutated into monsters, and the ground itself became a barren, pulsating wasteland.
People who strayed too close either vanished or returned changed — mad, diseased, or worse, inhuman. Entire cities had been swallowed whole by rift zones, leaving behind only stories of screaming skies and unending terror.
Humanity fought back the only way it knew how — by forming an organization meant to combat against them.
The Riftguards.
The Riftguards were both a beacon of hope and a necessary evil.
They were the first line of defense against the horrors that spilled into the world. Armed with magic that had been bestowed upon humans through the opening of these gates and technology, they sealed rifts, battled monsters, and reclaimed corrupted lands.
At least, that was the goal. In reality, their efforts were often desperate and tragic. For every rift sealed, another would open elsewhere, sometimes larger and more destructive than the last.
Riftguards were not born heroes. They were conscripts, pulled from every corner of society, trained in three grueling years to wield arcane magic, advanced weaponry, and sheer grit.
By the time they graduated, most bore scars — not just on their bodies, but on their minds. They had seen what the rifts could do, what the creatures within them were capable of.
And yet, they fought on.
The world's governments poured resources into the Riftguard program, creating academies to train young men and women to face the darkness.
Xavier was one such recruit. Barely eighteen when he joined, he had grown up watching the Riftguards on broadcasted missions — watching their triumphs, mourning their losses, and believing that he could be one of them. That he could make a difference.
The training grounds of the Riftguard Academy were unforgiving. Massive stone walls encased the sprawling campus, offering some protection from the outside world, though even here, the faint glow of distant rifts lit the night sky like an ominous reminder.
The recruits were divided into squads, each assigned a mentor — a hardened veteran who had survived years of fighting on the front lines.
Xavier had been assigned to Squad Echo, a group as mismatched as they were determined. There was Maren, the sharpshooter with a quick wit; Dara, the stoic mage who could manipulate fire with deadly precision; Kade, the brawler whose fists were as dangerous as any blade; and Thalia, their squad leader, whose strategic mind and unshakable resolve made her the anchor of their team.
At least, that was how it seemed at first.
Xavier had trusted them. He had fought alongside them in training exercises, shared meals, laughed at their jokes, and believed they were building something unbreakable.
He believed they had his back.
But trust is fragile, and in the world of the Riftguards, betrayal often came disguised as camaraderie.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The town loomed ahead, its silhouette dark and unnerving against the backdrop of the fractured sky. Squad Echo approached in silence, their boots crunching softly against the gravel road.
The atmosphere felt heavy, the kind of weight that pressed down on the chest and made every breath feel like a struggle.
"This place feels wrong," Maren muttered, her rifle resting against her shoulder as her sharp eyes scanned the area. She was never one to mask her thoughts, and her voice carried just enough edge to hint at unease.
"It's a rift zone," Dara replied curtly, her voice as calm and measured as always. She adjusted the gauntlets of her Riftguard armor, faint wisps of flame flickering along her fingertips. "Wrong is the baseline."
Xavier walked a few paces behind them, his sword strapped to his back and a smaller dagger resting against his hip.
He let out a slow exhale, his breath misting in the chilly air. His eyes roamed the town's edge, where crooked wooden fences sagged under years of neglect, and houses stood with broken windows and doors swinging on rusted hinges.
"You think anyone's left here?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"Doubt it," Thalia answered. She was at the front, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her blade.
Her Riftguard armor gleamed under the faint light of the distant rift, black as night with subtle threads of silver running through its design.
The armor clung to their forms, sleek and efficient, absorbing traces of the rift's radiation. It wasn't foolproof, but it was enough to keep them alive — for a time. "Look around. No lights, no sounds. If anyone survived, they'd have barricaded themselves inside by now."
"Or they ran," Kade added, cracking his knuckles. His heavy boots seemed louder than the rest of theirs, his broad frame filling out his armor in a way that made him seem more imposing. "Smartest thing to do when a rift opens in your backyard."
"Not everyone has the luxury to run," Dara said, her tone clipped.
"Yeah, well, the dead don't care about luxuries." Kade grunted, shrugging off her disapproval.
Xavier glanced at the others as they advanced. Despite the banter, the tension was palpable.
Their conversations were little more than a distraction — a way to keep the creeping fear at bay. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his dagger, the cool metal grounding him.
As they reached the gates of the town, a sharp gust of wind blew past them, carrying with it the faint stench of rot.
The gates themselves were ajar, one side hanging limply from a broken hinge. A faded sign above read Eldon, the letters barely visible beneath layers of grime and weathering.
"Stay close," Thalia said, her voice firm. She motioned for the group to spread out slightly but maintain formation.
They stepped through the gates, their boots transitioning from gravel to cracked cobblestone. The town square opened before them, eerily quiet.
Empty market stalls lined the perimeter, their wares long gone or scattered. A fountain stood in the center, dry and cracked, its once-pristine statue of a winged figure now crumbling.
Xavier scanned the area, his heart thudding in his chest. "Where do you think they all went?"
"Judging by the smell?" Maren replied, gesturing toward the darkened alleys and shuttered homes. "Probably not far."
"Cut the chatter," Thalia snapped. She stepped forward, her hand raised to signal a halt. "Something's not right. Dara, see if you can sense anything."
Dara nodded, stepping closer to the fountain. She knelt and placed a hand against the cold stone, her eyes closing in concentration.
For a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the wind and the faint crackle of energy as Dara's magic flared.
"There's residual rift energy," she said after a moment, her voice strained. "It's faint, but it's everywhere. Whatever came through here didn't leave much behind."
"Except corpses," Kade muttered, earning a sharp glare from Dara.
Thalia turned to the group, her expression hard. "We stick to the plan. Sweep the area, locate the rift, and neutralize any threats. We don't take risks. Clear?"
The squad nodded in unison, though the unease lingered. Xavier adjusted his armor, the weight of his sword on his back a small comfort as they moved further into the abandoned town.
Each step felt heavier, the silence more oppressive. Shadows danced along the edges of the buildings, and the faint glow of the rift in the distance painted everything in a sickly hue.
Xavier kept his breathing steady. He had been on missions before, but something about this town — this silence — felt different.
"You good back there, Xavier?" Maren asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"Yeah," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Don't overthink it," she said with a faint smile. "It's just another rift."
Xavier wanted to believe her, but the knot in his stomach told him otherwise. Something was wrong here — he could feel it.
And as they advanced deeper into the town, the faint sound of something moving in the distance confirmed his worst fears.
Thalia raised a fist, signaling the squad to halt. The sound grew louder, a scraping noise that sent shivers down Xavier's spine.
"Positions," she ordered, drawing her blade.
The Riftguards fell into formation, weapons drawn, their eyes scanning the darkness ahead. Xavier swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his dagger as his pulse quickened.
The silence broke, and the darkness shifted. Something was coming.