It started with a single scream.
Sharp. Raw. Cutting through the cold morning air like a blade.
And then another.
And another.
Until the entire village was awake.
Aric was already on his feet when Lira stormed into his tent.
Her eyes were wide, her breath coming fast.
She wasn't panicked.
Lira didn't panic.
But this?
This was close.
"They're gone."
Her voice was tight, sharp, and barely controlled.
Aric stilled.
"Who?"
A pause.
Then—
"The dead."
The words hung heavy in the air.
And before Aric could even process what she meant—
The second scream ripped through the village.
By the time they reached the graveyard, a crowd had already gathered.
Villagers stood in clusters, whispering, and pointing.
Their faces were pale, eyes wide with disbelief.
Mothers clutched their children.
Men gripped axes, pitchforks, and anything they could use as a weapon.
Because in front of them—
Where there should have been rows of graves—
There was only empty earth.
The graves had been dug up.
Not by shovels.
Not by hand.
But by something else.
Something that had crawled out.
"Gods above…"
Kael's voice was low, almost a whisper.
He stood at the edge of a gaping hole, staring down at the disturbed soil, the clawed marks in the dirt.
Marks that went down, deep, past where a coffin should be—
And then back up.
Aric's chest tightened.
The bodies hadn't been stolen.
They had left.
On their own.
----
It was Lira who saw them first.
She had been scanning the valley, looking for tracks, searching for anything that made sense.
And then—
Her breath caught.
Her fingers tightened around her sword hilt.
Because at the very edge of the Rift's glow—
The Riftmarked stood waiting.
And there were more of them.
Aric turned slowly, eyes narrowing.
There had already been hundreds.
But now?
There were more.
They stood silent, motionless, watching.
And among them—
Some faces looked… familiar.
Kael stepped closer.
His voice was low, cautious.
"That's not possible."
Lira's jaw clenched.
"Tell me I'm not losing my damn mind."
She pointed toward a cluster of Riftmarked near the front.
A small group, clad in tattered armor, still wearing remnants of their old house sigils.
House Margrave.
The knights they had buried after the battle.
Kael swallowed hard.
Because he recognized them, too.
"They're supposed to be dead."
Aric's voice was quiet, unreadable.
Lira's fingers twitched toward her sword again.
"No."
A sharp inhale.
"They are dead."
The Riftmarked did not move.
Did not speak.
They simply stood there, waiting.
And deep in Aric's chest—
The Rift hummed.
Something was calling them.
Something was bringing them back.
And Aric was beginning to understand why.
----
Kael didn't want to check the last grave.
But he did it anyway.
The grave belonged to a knight named Edric Vale.
One of Margrave's strongest warriors.
Aric had killed him himself.
Run him through the chest during the siege.
Watched the life leave his eyes.
And yet—
Kael was staring at his empty grave.
Unlike the others, this one wasn't just disturbed.
It had been broken open.
From the inside.
The wood of the coffin lid was shattered.
As if something had punched through it, crawling free.
Deep claw marks ran along the edges, tearing through the dirt.
And there—half-buried in the mud—
A single gauntlet remained.
Torn, dented, but unmistakable.
Kael exhaled slowly.
His fingers tightened.
And when he looked up—
His stomach turned to ice.
Because someone was standing at the edge of the mist.
Watching.
Waiting.
Not a villager.
Not a soldier.
But a knight.
Wrapped in Margrave's colors.
And when Kael met his gaze—
The knight smiled.
The dead were not just walking.
They remembered.
And they had come back for a reason.
----
Lira was losing her patience.
She had been watching Aric since the Riftmarked first knelt before him.
She had seen the way his body changed. The way his eyes darkened whenever the Rift pulsed.
And now—
Now the dead walked.
And Aric wasn't surprised.
She pulled him aside from the others, gripping his arm tightly.
"This isn't normal."
Her voice was low, sharp, furious.
"This isn't some war tactic. This isn't a strategy. This is—"
She gestured toward the Riftmarked army, toward the familiar faces standing among them.
"This is wrong, Aric."
Aric didn't answer immediately.
He only looked past her, toward the valley, toward the mist curling at the edges of the Rift.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
Lira's stomach twisted.
Because he wasn't shocked.
He wasn't even disturbed.
It was as if he had expected this.
As if some part of him knew this would happen.
"Aric."
She gritted her teeth.
"Look at me."
He did.
And for the first time—
She saw it.
Not a warlord.
Not a strategist.
Not even a prince reborn.
But something else.
Something touched by the Rift.
Her fingers loosened from his sleeve.
And in a voice barely above a whisper—
She asked the one thing she had never dared to say before.
"Are you still you?"
Aric didn't answer.
Because they both already knew.
----
The knight did not speak at first.
He simply stood at the edge of the mist.
Watching.
Waiting.
Kael's hand went to his sword.
Lira took a slow step forward.
But Aric—
Aric raised a hand.
Stopped them both.
Because he recognized the man standing before them.
"Edric Vale."
The name fell from Aric's lips like a memory.
The knight tilted his head slightly.
His armor was still torn, still bloodied from the battle days before.
But his eyes… were not dead.
Not hollow.
Not empty.
They were full of recognition.
Of memory.
Of something worse than fear.
"You killed me."
The knight's voice was steady.
Not accusing.
Not angry.
Just a fact.
A memory stated plainly as if it belonged to someone else.
Aric felt Kael tense beside him.
Felt Lira shift her stance, ready for anything.
But the knight did not attack.
He did not reach for a weapon.
He simply stood there, looking at Aric as if trying to solve a puzzle.
As if trying to remember something just beyond his grasp.
Then—
Soft.
Quiet.
A whisper carried by the wind.
"Why?"
Aric's fingers curled into fists.
Because there was no answer.
No reason.
No justification that would satisfy a dead man.
And the knight knew it.
Because after a long moment—
He smiled.
A slow, hollow, knowing smile.
And without another word—
He turned.
And walked back into the mist.
Kael exhaled sharply.
"I don't like this."
Lira's hand was still on her blade.
"That wasn't natural."
She looked at Aric.
"None of this is."
Aric said nothing.
Because deep down—
He agreed.
But the Rift—
The Rift wasn't done yet.
----
That night—
The whispers returned.
Aric did not sleep.
He sat at the edge of the village, staring into the mist, feeling the weight of the night settle over his shoulders.
And in the distance—
The Rift called his name.
Soft.
Insistent.
Relentless.
You are not the first.
You will not be the last.
Come home.
Come home.
Come home.
And then—
Something moved in the mist.
Something big.
Something not human.
And Aric—
Aric stood up to meet it.