The space in front of him ripped open, giving a view to a space that did not exist before. He walked through the rift, bracing himself for what was to come. 

The first thing he felt was the cold. Here, everything was desolate. The sky was choked with dark, black clouds, not a single ray of sunlight broke through. The landscape was barren, lifeless, with no movement—neither in the sky nor on the ground. Yet the shock of this grim and desolate place quickly faded as a distinct sensation washed over him. 

He sensed it immediately—the shard. Instinctively, he knew the object he had long sought was near. A greedy gleam flickered in his eyes. 

He expanded his mind outward, focusing on the shard's location. It was close. But suddenly, something broke his concentration. Confused, he opened his eyes and glanced around the barren landscape. 

All he could perceive was the all-encompassing darkness. Yet the uneasy feeling remained. It was as if the darkness itself was watching him. He shook off the uneasy sensation and began walking into the night, following the pull of the shard. Behind him, the rift closed, taking the last source of light with it. The darkness was now absolute, but that didn't bother him—he had always been comfortable in the dark. 

Slowly, his eyes adjusted, and he could make out his surroundings more clearly. This world had clearly suffered some catastrophic event. The forests had been destroyed—trees either toppled or burned, the fields barren and coated in ash. Everywhere, debris of past civilizations lay scattered—ruins of farmhouses, fields where crops had once grown. Yet there was no life. No animals, no sounds. Everything was dead. 

And yet, the unsettling feeling of being watched never left him. No matter how often he glanced over his shoulder, he saw nothing but the dead landscape and endless darkness. 

The feeling of being watched clung to him, no matter how often he looked into the gloom. There was nothing to see—only desolate landscapes and endless blackness. 

Eventually, he came to a city—or what was left of one. Once, it must have been magnificent, but now it was nothing more than piles of rubble. Broken sections of towering walls still encircled the remnants, but they had crumbled and collapsed long ago. Whatever had ravaged this place had left no respect for the structures that once stood tall. 

Perhaps a storm? He passed through what must have once been grand gates, now reduced to a shattered arch and a toppled door. The other gate lay far ahead, buried in the wreckage of a massive building with a collapsed spire. 

He walked the deserted streets, past the ruins of homes and faded signs that once advertised bakeries and forges. Everything was abandoned, swallowed by an oppressive darkness and an eerie silence. Only his footsteps broke the stillness, as he trod over charred branches and crumbling debris. Then, he stepped on something that gave a sickening crack. Instinctively, he looked down. 

It wasn't a burnt branch he had crushed, but a long, white bone. And beside it, a human skull stared up at him. He recoiled in horror, stumbling backward. With a groan, he straightened up—just as a flash of lightning split the sky. For a brief second, the landscape was illuminated, and what he saw made his blood run cold. 

In that brief moment of light, he saw it—and a chill ran down his spine. Before him was a towering pile of human skeletons, at least five meters high. The sight froze the blood in his veins. Whatever had ravaged this place, it was no natural disaster. Panic welled up inside him. He had to get away from here. 

Another flash of lightning lit the sky, longer this time. His heart stopped as he looked again at the bone pile. This time, he saw it—perched atop the mound of bones sat a grotesque creature. It had four long, black limbs, and a snout vaguely reminiscent of a wolf, but its body was a twisted parody of a human's. Its skin was black as the night, but its eyes—its eyes shone a piercing yellow. It just sat there, staring directly at him. Even as the lightning vanished, those yellow eyes remained, glowing in the darkness, unblinking, fixed on him. 

That was it. His resolve broke. 

He had to escape. 

Now. 

He spun around and bolted into the darkness. It didn't matter where—he just needed to run. 

As he ran, he glanced back over his shoulder. Another flash of lightning illuminated the world, and the creature was still there, still watching, its yellow eyes tracking his every step. 

Then it was dark again. But the darkness felt different now, heavier, more suffocating. Then he could feel the magic swirling around him. 

Magic. Of course! What had he been afraid of? He was a mage. He could defend himself. 

But just as he raised his hand to unleash his power, a sharp pain shot through his chest. 

He stumbled, his legs giving way beneath him. With a strangled cry, he collapsed to the ground. His hand instinctively flew to his chest—it was soaked with blood. 

He struggled to get back on his feet, but then something pierced his leg, sending him crashing to his knees once more. 

He couldn't die here. 

Not like this! 

His journey had just begun; it couldn't end like this. With his last ounce of strength, he fought to rise again. 

He heard faint footsteps behind him. A hard object struck the back of his head, and he fell back into the dirt. 

He was rolled onto his back. 

A rough voice spoke to him in an unfamiliar language. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out—only the soft gurgle of blood. 

More footsteps echoed around him, and something loomed above, casting a shadow that blocked the faint light. 

It seemed to grin down at him as his vision slowly faded to black. 

The last thing he saw before death took him was a pair of yellow glowing eyes, hungrily staring back at him.