Dawn broke cold and gray over Thornhaven. Astraeus met the others at the northern gate, the air thick with a nervous energy that was a mixture of anticipation and dread. The guards, recognizing them from their daily training, waved them through with a somber nod. It was a familiar ritual in Thornhaven: mages heading out to face the darkness that encroached on their world.
They moved at a steady pace, a small, determined group against the vast, indifferent landscape. The road north was well-maintained for the first ten miles, a lifeline of commerce and travel. They passed farms where people were just beginning their day, their faces etched with the hard lines of manual labor. They watched the mages pass with a mixture of awe and pity.
"Ever been on an expedition like this before?" Lyra asked Astraeus, her voice a low murmur that didn't carry to the others.
"Not like this," Astraeus admitted. "I've traveled alone, fought alone. This is my first real team operation."
"Then let me give you some advice," she said, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Trust your teammates, but trust your instincts more. If something feels wrong, say so immediately. Don't wait to be polite or worry about being wrong. In the field, hesitation kills."
Darius, walking at the head of the group with Thomas, called back without turning, his voice a low rumble that carried easily. "She's right. And another thing—if someone gives an order during combat, you follow it. No questions, no hesitation. You can argue about it later, over a drink, if we're all still alive. In the moment, coordination is everything. We clear?"
"Clear," Astraeus confirmed, a knot of nervous energy tightening in his stomach.
Good advice, Kha'Zul said, his mental voice a rare note of approval. Military discipline. It's kept more people alive than individual heroics ever have.
The road began to deteriorate after the tenth mile, the neat cobblestones giving way to a rutted dirt track. The farms and settlements grew sparse, then disappeared altogether, replaced by wild, untamed grasslands that stretched to the horizon. By the time they reached the fifteen-mile mark, the path had vanished entirely, and they were navigating by compass and the subtle shifts in the landscape.
The sky grew darker, the clouds heavy with the promise of rain. A cold wind swept across the plains, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant pine. Astraeus could feel the essence of the world around him, a wild, untamed energy that was a stark contrast to the controlled, ordered essence of the city.
You're developing essence sight, Kha'Zul observed. The ability to perceive magical energy without actively manipulating it. Your senses are growing sharper.
"Is that a good thing?" Astraeus asked mentally.It's a necessary thing. You can't fight what you can't see.
They reached the edge of Blackwood Forest by mid-morning. It rose before them like a wall of shadow, a dense, ancient forest that seemed to swallow the light. The air grew colder, damper, and a foul smell wafted from the trees—the scent of rot and decay, and something else, something unnatural that made the hairs on Astraeus's arms stand on end.
"You feel that?" Thomas asked, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword he wore at his side.
"The essence is disturbed," Astraeus said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's flowing wrong, like a river choked with weeds."
"The rift," Lyra said, her cheerful demeanor gone, replaced by a grim seriousness. "Even from here, it's corrupting the natural energy of the forest."
Darius pulled out a small, compass-like device. The needle spun wildly for a moment before settling, pointing deep into the dark woods. "Essence detector. It'll point us toward the strongest disturbance. That way. Five miles, give or take."
They entered the forest in a tight, defensive formation, Darius in the lead, his shield already strapped to his arm. The darkness was immediate and oppressive. The thick canopy of ancient trees blocked out the sky, and the silence was profound. No birds sang. No animals rustled in the undergrowth. It was a dead place.
Stay alert, Kha'Zul warned, his voice a low growl in Astraeus's mind. This is Voidborn territory now. They've been here long enough to corrupt the local essence, to drive away all natural life. We're in their hunting ground.
Astraeus drew on his essence, not shaping it into a spell, but letting it coat his senses, sharpening his awareness. He scanned the oppressive shadows, his eyes darting from one dark shape to another. Every twisted root, every gnarled branch, looked like a lurking monster.
They moved deeper into the forest, the silence broken only by the soft crunch of their boots on the damp earth. The feeling of wrongness intensified with every step. The air grew colder, and Astraeus began to see things at the edge of his vision—flickers of movement, shapes that seemed to twist and writhe in the periphery. The fabric of reality was thin here, stretched to its breaking point.
"The rift is close," Lyra whispered, her voice tight with tension.
Darius raised a hand, and the group froze. Ahead, through the dense trees, they could see a clearing. But it wasn't a clearing filled with light. It was a clearing filled with a darkness that seemed to absorb all light, a patch of absolute blackness in the heart of the forest.
They crept forward, using the trees for cover, until they reached the edge of the clearing. What they saw made Astraeus's breath catch in his throat.
In the center of the clearing, a wound had been torn in the fabric of reality. It was a vertical slash of pure, unadulterated blackness, crackling with a dark energy that was the antithesis of life. Around the rift, the ground was dead, the trees withered and black, as if all life had been leached from them.
And standing guard around the rift were five creatures of nightmare.
They were Voidborn, similar to the one Astraeus had faced in the warehouse, but each was uniquely grotesque. One had too many arms, another had a hide of chitinous plates, a third seemed to shimmer and fade from view. They stood motionless, a silent, terrifying testament to the alien reality from which they had come.
Five of them, Kha'Zul said, his voice grim. And they're organized. This is a nest. There's likely a stronger one nearby, an Alpha, directing them.
"We need to report this," Darius whispered, his voice tight with controlled urgency. "Five creatures plus a possible Alpha is beyond our mission parameters. We need reinforcements."
"We can't just leave the rift open," Lyra argued, her voice a fierce whisper. "Every hour it stays active, more of those things could come through."
"And if we die trying to close it, it stays open anyway," Thomas countered, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. "Darius is right. We need to fall back and report."
Astraeus stared at the scene, his mind racing. They were right. The tactical situation was a nightmare. But Lyra was right too. Leaving the rift open was a gamble he wasn't sure they could afford to take.
He had a choice to make. And he had a feeling it would be the most important choice of his short, second life.
He took a deep breath, the cold, corrupted air burning his lungs. He had come here to fight, to make a difference. He had come here to be a Reality Anchor. And that meant making the hard choices, the ones that no one else could.
"We can't leave," he said, his voice a low, firm whisper that cut through the tension. "We have to close that rift. Now."