The caravan came to a halt with a prolonged groan of metal and tired wood. Royd didn't need anyone to announce their arrival; the pressure in his chest, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched by something immense, told him there was no turning back.
—Any —he whispered, touching her shoulder—. We're here.
She opened her eyes slowly, and even before peeking through the tarp, she brought a hand to her throat. She coughed once, dryly; the air weighed heavily in her lungs, charged with that dense static that only exists near the fragments.
The Green Fragment was no longer a distant silhouette; it now dominated the landscape completely. It didn't look like a deliberate construction, but an ancient wound the planet had never managed to close. From its core, decades ago, colossal roots had sprouted, piercing the Earth's crust and intertwining in slow spirals that vaguely resembled trees. Nothing there was natural. At its center throbbed the Mother Structure: a dense mass of fused fibers and greenish light, like an exposed heart. Royd always thought the same when he saw it: if the Earth still had a pulse, that sickly glow would be its final beat.
He stepped down first and helped Any. She grasped his hand with a quiet naturalness, recognizing that the ground beneath their boots was not entirely real. It was neither soil nor rock. The whole terrain was the fragment itself: a mass of alien matter buried beneath layers of ancient world. It vibrated with a dull, deep echo, felt more in the bones than in the ears.
—This came first —he murmured—. Before the cities. Before the cracks.
—And before that? —Any asked, staring at the thick mist—. What was there?
—A normal world —Royd replied—. That's what the records say… and the few who lived to know it.
He looked up, as if trying to imagine a sky without scars.
—They say that one day the sky split open. It wasn't a storm, but two colossal lights appearing at opposite ends. As they advanced, they tore space like an overstretched cloth. Then they collided, and from that collision, the fragments were born. The sea rose, coasts vanished, and the land broke. Nothing was ever the same.
Royd hadn't seen it, but he had heard the story so many times that the images of the sky tearing felt as real as his own memories.
—Everything else came after: roots suffocating the ground, cracks opening forbidden paths… and the Guardians, making sure no one stopped the process.
As he spoke, Royd guided Any through the crowd toward the heart of the settlement, where the Rift warped the air at the foot of the Mother Structure. It wasn't a clean opening, but a vertical tear where light bent and died. Next to it stood Ithrael, the Silent: living stone and petrified sap, motionless like a conscious mountain. Royd felt its presence pierce his chest, heavy and judging, as if the Guardian were counting each person who passed.
But it wasn't the Guardian that tensed his muscles. It was the Champions.
They were imposing figures clad in impossible armor, forged from foreign metals and skins ripped from creatures of other planes. Their weapons emitted a low, constant hum that silenced the shuffling of the crowd. Seeing them, the past struck Royd without permission: flashing red lights, the smell of ozone, blood-stained steel… and a distant hum, a broken melody only he seemed to hear, refusing to die.
He clenched his jaw and looked away. Not here. Not now.
He continued toward the checkpoint, shielding Any. He drew the coin of living alloy; the metal pulsed against his skin, shifting from dead cold to feverish warmth. Two years of savings. Two years of accepting suicidal jobs and avoiding unnecessary fights. That coin was his last gamble.
—The tribute —the guard intoned from the heights of his armor. The voice, filtered through metal, sounded like a screech devoid of any trace of humanity.
Royd extended his hand, palm up. The Champion took the piece with two gloved fingers, assessing the pulse of the living alloy before making it vanish into some compartment of his armor. Then he lowered the tip of his spear until the blade hovered mere inches from Any's chest.
—An attendant —the guard decreed.
—My sister —Royd replied, holding his gaze behind the cold visor of the warrior.
No more questions were asked. The Champion withdrew his weapon with a sharp movement and stepped aside. Royd didn't wait; he guided Any past the checkpoint toward the tear that vibrated just meters away.
As they advanced, the world began to warp. Any pressed closer to him, brushing against his arm as their shadows twisted in the Rift's energy.
—Does it hurt? —she whispered, eyes fixed on the chromatic void.
—I don't know —Royd answered without stopping, eyes fixed on the edge where matter dissolved—. But once it starts… there's no stopping it.
He thought of the red footprints on the wood and the lights that always arrived too late. Just before reaching the threshold, he squeezed his sister's hand tighter, securing their hold.
—Whatever happens —he added softly—, don't let go.
Ithrael remained motionless behind them, watching not the entrance, but the souls daring to cross it. A Champion raised an arm in a final signal. Royd looked up one last time, inhaling deeply to memorize the taste of Earth's air before the void claimed it.
They stepped forward.
The world folded, and gravity fractured beneath their feet. As the light splintered into impossible colors, Royd thought he heard, one last time, that whisper calling his name from nothing. It was only a blink before darkness claimed them completely.
The Rift closed behind them with a deep, almost satisfied murmur.