The last remnants of smoke curled toward the sky, mingling with the overcast clouds.
Ash drifted lazily through the ruins of Eldermere, settling over charred beams and shattered stone, a thin gray veil over what was once a home.
The fires had burned low, but their destruction remained, etched into the land and the hearts of those who had survived.
The village was dead.
Lira stood in the wreckage, her boots pressing deep into the soot-covered ground, the heat from the embers still lingering in the air. The silence was unnatural.
Days ago, this place had been filled with life. Merchants bartering, blacksmiths hammering steel, the scent of fresh bread wafting from market stalls.
Now, it was empty.
The villagers had already begun to scatter. Some fled toward the capital, others deeper into the forests. Some simply walked, with no direction at all, their eyes hollow with grief and exhaustion.
Lira watched them go, her fingers curled tightly around the worn hilt of her sword.
A gust of wind rushed through the ruins, lifting the ash into swirling patterns. Somewhere in the distance, a wooden beam collapsed, sending a soft crack through the unnatural quiet.
Kael leaned heavily against a broken cart beside her, his breath uneven, his wounds still raw. His armor was cracked, his tunic stiff with dried blood. But his eyes—his eyes were sharp, studying her.
"You're still thinking about it," he muttered.
Lira didn't answer.
Because he was right.
She had spent her life making quick decisions, never second-guessing. The battlefield had no patience for hesitation. But this—this was different.
There was no battle left to fight. No war to win.
Only a choice.
Did she leave?
Or did she stay?
----
Eldermere was broken, lost. There was nothing left but ruin. The villagers knew it. Kael knew it.
So why couldn't she accept it?
She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her sweat-dampened hair.
Kael let out a slow breath. "I know that look."
She arched a brow. "Do you?"
"You're trying to convince yourself to do the wrong thing."
A bitter smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "And what's the right thing?"
Kael gave a dry chuckle, but it was weak, strained. "Walking away before the Rift takes you, too."
The Rift.
Her gaze flicked toward the valley, where the Rift loomed, its pulsing glow cutting through the haze of smoke and fog.
It had been silent at first. A whisper just beneath her thoughts, threading through the wind. Barely noticeable.
But now—
Now, she could hear it.
Not words. Not commands.
Just a pull.
A slow, quiet invitation.
She clenched her fists, forcing herself to look away.
Kael saw it. Saw the way she had to force herself to turn her back on it.
"You feel it, don't you?"
Lira didn't answer.
Kael exhaled sharply. "That's how it starts."
She scoffed. "Don't start acting like you're the cautious one now."
Kael gave her a pointed look. "Caution's the only reason I'm still breathing."
Lira shook her head, stepping over a shattered shield at her feet. The weight of the past days pressed against her shoulders, and for the first time in a long while, she felt… uncertain.
The Riftmarked were still there.
They had not attacked.
They had not spoken.
They simply stood in the valley, waiting.
The thought sent a chill through her.
"What are they waiting for?" she murmured.
Kael followed her gaze, his expression grim. "Do you really want the answer to that?"
Lira's jaw tightened.
They were waiting for Aric.
And Aric wasn't coming back.
----
A rustling sound broke the silence.
Lira turned sharply, hand flying to her sword.
A small group of villagers lingered at the edge of the ruins, their faces pale, their bodies slumped with exhaustion. They had not joined the others fleeing south. They stood there, staring at her, uncertain.
Waiting.
One of them, a man with a bloodied bandage wrapped around his arm, hesitated before stepping forward.
"We need to leave," he said, voice hoarse from smoke and grief.
Lira studied him. He wasn't wrong.
Kael shifted beside her. "See? He's got the right idea."
Lira ignored him. "Where's the rest of your group?"
The man swallowed. "Scattered. Some went north. Some ran into the woods. We don't know where to go."
"Then why are you still here?"
The man hesitated. "Some of us… were waiting."
"For what?"
"For you," the man admitted. "And for him."
Lira's breath caught in her throat.
Her fingers curled tighter around the hilt of her sword. "Aric's gone."
The man nodded slowly. "But you're not."
Lira forced herself to exhale, her chest tight.
She turned her gaze back toward the Rift, toward the Riftmarked standing in the distance.
Waiting.
Watching.
She could still hear it.
Still feel it.
Kael's voice broke through her thoughts. "Lira."
She didn't turn.
"You're thinking about staying."
She clenched her jaw.
"Don't," Kael muttered.
Lira took a slow breath, and then faced the villagers.
"Go," she ordered.
The man hesitated. "Lira—"
"Go," she repeated, voice firm. "If you stay, you die."
A long silence. Then, one by one, the villagers turned and disappeared after the others, vanishing into the smoke like ghosts.
The only ones left were her and Kael.
Lira exhaled.
She didn't look at the Rift again.
Didn't let herself.
Instead, she knelt beside Kael, hoisting his arm over her shoulder, ignoring his sharp intake of breath as she forced him to his feet.
"Where are we going?" he muttered.
Lira didn't know.
But she walked anyway.
Away from the Rift.
For now.
----
The wind shifted.
Lira barely noticed it at first, too focused on the villagers leaving, too aware of the weight of Kael's injuries pressing against her side. But the moment the last survivor disappeared into the distant haze, she felt it—a change in the air.
The Rift pulsed behind her, a slow, rhythmic thrum that she could feel in her bones.
She turned.
The Riftmarked warrior was still there. Still standing motionless at the valley's edge, its hollow helm tilted ever so slightly in her direction. The other Riftmarked had remained as they were—silent, unmoving. But this one?
It had taken a step closer.
A whisper slid through the air, threading into her thoughts before she could stop it.
Come.
Her breath hitched.
It was the same voice she had heard before. Not spoken. Not shouted. Just… there.
She knew what it was.
What it wanted.
The Rift had called to Aric once. And now, it was calling to her.
Lira clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm, grounding herself in the sharp bite of pain.
"You're thinking about it," Kael muttered beside her.
She didn't answer.
"You're listening." His voice was quieter now, strained.
Lira exhaled sharply. "Shut up, Kael."
But he didn't. "Do you even realize how you look right now?"
Her hands trembled slightly. Not out of fear. Not out of hesitation. Out of something else.
A pull.
It wasn't strong, not like a command. It was… a suggestion.
A quiet, insistent invitation.
Kael shifted against her. "If you go near it, you won't come back."
Lira clenched her jaw, forcing herself to break eye contact with the Riftmarked. But the whisper didn't stop.
You were meant for more.
He was just the beginning.
Come.
Her throat tightened.
This was wrong.
She knew it.
And yet…
She had always been a soldier, a fighter. She had never been just another nameless blade. Aric had seen it. He had made her into more than just a mercenary.
But now, with him gone—
The thought came before she could stop it.
What if the Rift could make her more?
The realization slammed into her like a punch to the gut.
She staggered a step backward.
Kael didn't move, just watched her, his gaze unreadable.
She forced herself to breathe.
"You need to leave," he said quietly.
Lira didn't respond.
Because she wasn't sure she could.
----
The Riftmarked warrior had not moved again. It just stood there, watching. Waiting.
The Rift still pulsed, steady, patient.
Lira let out a slow breath.
She had spent her whole life following orders. First from warlords, then from Aric. She had never been the one to decide. Never been the one people looked to.
Until now.
Now, the choice was hers.
Stay.
Or go.
She glanced at Kael. He wasn't going to last much longer in his condition. His wounds needed treatment—real treatment, not whatever makeshift aid she could give him here.
And the Rift…
The Rift wasn't going anywhere.
She could come back.
Would come back.
But not now.
Not yet.
Lira turned to the Riftmarked warrior one last time, staring into the dark void of its helm.
She didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Then, slowly, she turned away.
Kael let out a breath of relief, but he said nothing.
She didn't let herself look back.
One step.
Another.
Then another.
The Rift did not call her name again.
But she knew, deep in her gut—
It would.
And next time, she might not be able to walk away.
----
The first drops of rain hit the dirt as they reached the outskirts of the ruins. A storm was coming.
Lira felt it deep in her bones, the same way she had felt battle before it arrived, the same way she had felt the weight of death settle over Eldermere before the first sword was drawn.
The wind carried more than just the scent of smoke and blood now.
It carried a whisper.
Not from the Rift. Not from the Riftmarked.
From something else.
Something older.
Something waiting.
She clenched her fists.
They needed to move. Fast.
Eldermere was lost.
But the war?
It was just beginning.