Saphielle gripped the jagged edge of the crumbling cliff, her breath coming in short gasps. The storm above raged with unnatural fury, casting flickering blue lightning across the jagged peaks. Below her, the world seemed to tilt, the fragmented land masses floating above the churning abyss where the Veil had once been whole. Somewhere far in the distance, a low, mournful hum echoed—a sound that sent chills racing through her bones.
This place, the Shattered Expanse, had been hidden for millennia beneath the fabric of the Veil, untouched and undisturbed. Yet now, as the last of the ancient protections failed, it lay exposed—a labyrinth of destruction and secrets.
She hauled herself onto the ledge, her fingers bloodied and trembling. The Rift Hunters had tracked her here, but she had managed to lose them, slipping through a narrow fissure in the jagged terrain. For now, she was alone, though the eerie silence that surrounded her felt more oppressive than the clamor of pursuit.
Her mind replayed the warning she'd received from the dying Riftwalker back at the ruins. "The shards are not merely tools. They have minds. They have hunger." At the time, she had dismissed it as delirium brought on by injury. But standing here, at the heart of the Shattered Expanse, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her.
Something alive.
Saphielle pulled herself to her feet and scanned the horizon. Ahead, the path split into two directions. To her left, a narrow bridge of stone led into a chasm filled with glowing crystals—pulsing with light as though they were breathing. To her right, a jagged trail curved upward into a mountain range, where shadows seemed to writhe and twist like living creatures.
The hum grew louder.
Saphielle gritted her teeth. The mountain path felt like a trap, but the crystals below radiated a kind of unnatural energy that made her skin crawl. She tightened the straps of her gear and chose the trail, climbing carefully.
The higher she ascended, the colder it became. Frost began to form on the edges of her cloak, and her breath came in visible puffs. Every step felt like a battle against the biting wind, but she pushed forward. As the trail widened into a plateau, she saw it—a massive stone gate carved into the mountain, its surface etched with intricate symbols that seemed to shift and writhe when she looked at them too long.
"Finally," she muttered under her breath.
She reached out, her fingertips grazing the cold stone, and the gate rumbled. The air around her shifted, growing dense and heavy. Suddenly, her vision blurred, and a voice spoke—low and ancient, like the rumble of distant thunder.
"Seeker of the shard, are you prepared to pay the price?"
Saphielle froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. "What price?" she demanded, her voice echoing in the still air.
The voice laughed, a sound that made her blood run cold. "You will see."
The ground beneath her feet gave way, and she plummeted into darkness.
Kael stood at the edge of the battlefield, his sword heavy in his hand. The bodies of his fallen comrades lay scattered around him, their armor glinting faintly in the dim light of the Veil's fading remnants. The enemy had retreated, but the cost of victory was staggering.
He wiped blood from his face and turned to the shattered remnants of his once-mighty kingdom. The walls of Aramyth stood cracked and blackened, their once-proud banners now tattered and burned. In the distance, he could see survivors scavenging what little they could from the wreckage.
"Lord Kael," a voice called from behind him.
He turned to see one of his captains approaching, her armor dented and streaked with soot. She bowed her head. "The council has convened. They're waiting for your decision."
Kael nodded grimly. He knew what they wanted from him—to lead the remaining forces into the heart of the riftlands and retrieve the final shard. But after what he had seen, he wasn't sure he could face the horrors that lay beyond.
As he made his way to the council chamber, his mind drifted to the vision he'd had during the last battle. A woman shrouded in shadow, her voice a whisper in his mind. "The end is near, Kael. And you are not ready."
He shook the memory away and pushed open the heavy doors to the chamber. Inside, the surviving members of the council sat in a semicircle, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear.
"We cannot delay any longer," one of them said. "The shard must be retrieved before the rifts consume everything."
Kael took a deep breath. "And if the shard destroys what little remains of the Veil? What then?"
The council members exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, an older woman spoke. "We have no choice. The shard is the only hope we have left. Without it, the rifts will continue to spread until there is nothing left."
Kael's jaw tightened. He knew they were right, but the weight of the task felt unbearable. He had already lost so much—his kingdom, his people, his family. To venture into the riftlands was to risk losing what little he had left of himself.
But there was no alternative.
"Very well," he said, his voice steady. "Prepare the expedition. We leave at dawn."
As the council dispersed, Kael lingered, staring out the window at the fractured landscape beyond. He clenched his fists, determination hardening his resolve.
Whatever lay ahead, he would face it.
For his people. For the world.
And for the hope that, somehow, this would all be worth it in the end.
End of Chapter 9