Fragments of Shadow and Soul
The glass ceiling above Aegis Academy's west library shimmered faintly under Riftlight, that eerie glow pulsing across the split sky. It had been there for ten years, the Rift—a jagged wound hanging above Earth like a second moon.
People said it hummed. Ren believed them.
He sat alone beneath the glass, textbook open, pen idle in his hand. The rest of the students had cleared out hours ago. Even the assistant librarian had vanished from the desk.
Typical.
He was used to being the last one in the room. Always studying. Always unnoticed.
Always... alone.
Ren turned a page in his book, barely absorbing the words. He rubbed at his eyes with ink-smudged fingers, then glanced up toward the sky again.
Stars blinked weakly beside the Rift's fractured glow.
And far in the distance, one of the Riftbeacon towers pulsed like a heartbeat.
Slow. Watching.
Ren shivered.
He closed the book and slung his satchel over his shoulder. The lights above buzzed once. Then again. Faint flickers.
He froze.
It felt like the air had thickened.
The hall beyond the library was almost pitch dark. Only a few glowpanels lit the path, most of them flickering like tired lungs. The Academy's interior always felt colder after midnight—built more for defense than comfort.
Ren moved quickly. He hated this part of campus after hours.
He turned into the long glass-enclosed walkway that stretched between the library wing and the dorms. Skybridge Garden, they called it. Daylight made it peaceful. At night, it reflected Riftlight too well—like standing inside a dream half-tilted into a nightmare.
Tonight, the Rift looked closer.
Hungrier.
Then he heard it.
Click. Click.
The sound echoed faintly from behind.
He stopped.
Swallowed.
Click. Click. Click.
He turned around slowly, heart climbing into his throat.
A shadow moved along the wall. Fast. Long-limbed.
Then it dropped from the ceiling.
It hit him before he could scream.
Claws. Weight. Cold limbs.
Ren's back slammed into the walkway floor as a Riftbeast straddled his chest, pinning him down. Its body was wrong—stretched too far, bones jutting at sick angles, mouth opening sideways to reveal too many teeth.
Black ooze dripped from its sockets.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't think.
The creature opened its maw and screeched—
And then a voice broke the silence.
"Move."
A wave of pressure exploded through the walkway.
The creature was ripped off of him, flung backwards into the glass wall with a sound like snapping bone.
Ren coughed, rolled onto his side, barely able to see through the panic.
Then he saw him.
Lucien Xeron.
He stood tall in the Riftlight, coat fluttering faintly behind him. The shadows didn't touch him—they answered him.
Ren had never seen anything like it.
Lucien raised one hand, and darkness coiled from beneath the floor, forming tendrils that shimmered with silver cracks—like lightning trapped inside smoke.
The Riftbeast shrieked and lunged again.
Lucien didn't move.
The shadows did.
They struck the beast mid-air, impaling it with precise, merciless force. It convulsed once. Then dissolved into Riftmist.
Gone.
Silence returned.
Lucien turned.
Ren stared, wide-eyed, chest heaving.
Lucien's expression was unreadable. Calm. Composed. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
He walked over and knelt beside Ren.
"You're alright now," he said, voice soft.
Ren swallowed, chest tight.
"I… thought I was going to die."
"You almost did," Lucien said. "But you didn't."
He reached out a hand.
Ren hesitated, then took it.
The moment their skin touched—
Something shifted.
A pulse ran through Ren's body, fast and hot and deep.
And somewhere inside him, something ancient whispered his name.
"Interesting…"
Ren's vision blurred.
Then everything went white.