The morning sun barely pierced the thick mist that clung to the ancient forest surrounding Moonspire Academy. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the faint hum of Rift energy, lingering like a ghost of battles past. I stood at the edge of the woods, the pendant Elira gave me resting cold against my chest. Lyra walked beside me, her violet eyes scanning the shadows between the trees with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
"Are you sure this is where the Rift is weakest?" she asked, her voice barely louder than the whisper of the wind.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "The old records mention a place called the Hollow Veil, a scar left from one of the earliest Rift breaches. It's unstable... dangerous. But if Seraxion's remnants still linger anywhere, it's there."
Lyra shivered, drawing her cloak tighter around her. "I don't like it here."
Neither did I.
The forest seemed alive, watching, waiting. Every rustle of leaves sounded like a secret waiting to be uncovered. We moved carefully, our footsteps muffled by moss and fallen leaves, the Riftlight from my pendant casting a faint glow that painted eerie shapes on the trunks.
Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the stillness. Lyra jumped, spinning to face the source, her hands trembling slightly as they hovered near her belt where her daggers rested.
"It's probably just a deer," I said, though my voice lacked conviction.
She didn't reply. Instead, she nodded once and tightened her grip on my arm. Together, we pressed deeper into the forest, toward a clearing where the air shimmered unnaturally, like heat waves on a summer's road.
As we entered, the world seemed to shift. The trees became twisted, their branches clawing toward the sky like desperate hands. The ground beneath us pulsed with a dull light, and the familiar hum of the Rift grew louder, vibrating in our bones.
"There," I said, pointing.
In the center of the clearing stood an ancient stone archway, covered in glowing runes that flickered and danced like flames. Beyond it, a swirling vortex of dark energy churned—an open Rift, unstable but alive.
I swallowed the fear that rose in my throat. "This is the Hollow Veil."
Lyra stepped forward, eyes wide. "Is it... safe to go through?"
"Safe?" I laughed bitterly. "No Rift ever is. But if we're going to stop whatever's left of Seraxion's plans, we have to."
We exchanged a look, a silent agreement forged in the fires of loss and hope. Then, hand in hand, we stepped through the Rift.
The world flipped and twisted. Colors bled into each other, sounds distorted and stretched. When the vertigo finally passed, we found ourselves in a place that was both familiar and alien.
A ruined city sprawled before us, buildings shattered and half-buried in dust. The sky was a swirling mass of dark clouds, pierced occasionally by jagged bolts of Rift lightning. The air tasted of ash and forgotten dreams.
"This must be one of the lost worlds," Lyra whispered, her voice trembling.
We moved cautiously through the ruins, alert to every shadow. It wasn't long before we encountered the first sign of life—figures cloaked in tattered robes, their faces hidden beneath hoods. They moved silently, watching us with eyes that gleamed like shards of broken glass.
One stepped forward, voice hollow. "Travelers from the Rift. What brings you to the Forgotten?"
"I'm Jin," I said, stepping forward with as much authority as I could muster. "This is Lyra. We come seeking answers about Seraxion's remnants."
The figure nodded slowly. "You seek the truth. But the truth here is buried beneath centuries of pain and silence."
Another voice joined from the shadows, younger, tinged with fear and hope. "The Rift is changing. Old powers awaken. You must be careful."
I glanced at Lyra, whose fingers clenched tightly around my arm.
"What happened here?" she asked.
The elder raised a hand, and the ground trembled. Around us, images flickered in the air—ghostly memories of a civilization torn apart by war, betrayal, and the unchecked power of the Rift.
"We were once keepers of balance," the elder explained. "Guardians of the Rift's secrets. But greed and fear corrupted us. Seraxion's shadow poisoned our hearts. We fell into madness."
"Is Seraxion still alive?" I demanded.
"In fragments," the elder said. "A darkness that cannot be fully destroyed. Only contained."
Lyra stepped forward, determination blazing in her eyes. "Then we will contain it. Together."
The figures nodded solemnly, and one extended a hand—an invitation to join their ranks in guarding the Rift's fragile peace.
As we accepted, a sudden roar split the air.
From the shadows emerged a monstrous creature, twisted by Rift energy—part beast, part nightmare. Its eyes burned with malice, its claws shredded the ground.
The battle was fierce and desperate. Lyra's daggers flashed in the dim light, cutting through shadows, while I wielded the Riftlight blade, striking with precision born of years of struggle.
But the creature was relentless, fueled by the pain and anger of forgotten souls.
In the heart of the fight, Lyra was knocked to the ground, a deep wound bleeding through her side.
Panic surged in me, but I forced it down. I had to be strong.
With a final, desperate strike, I plunged the blade into the creature's heart. It let out a deafening screech before dissolving into Rift dust.
We were silent, breathless, the weight of survival heavy on us.
As I tended to Lyra's wound, she smiled weakly. "Guess I'm not just Elira's shadow after all."
I squeezed her hand. "You're everything she wanted you to be—and more."
The journey through the Forgotten had only just begun. Beneath the ruins, deeper threats awaited. Secrets that could unravel the Rift itself.
But together, we would face whatever shadows lingered.
Because the Rift was not just a wound in reality—it was a promise of hope, of love reborn.
And we were its guardians now.