A Desperate Search
The shadows curled at Kieran's feet. Not his shadow. Something else.
Zyra squeezed his wrist. "Kieran, focus."
He inhaled sharply, his silver eyes flickering between awareness and something darker.
Marek's warning echoed in her mind.
Days. Maybe weeks.
That wasn't enough time.
Riven stepped forward, tension coiled in his posture. "We need to move. If he's already changing, standing here won't stop it."
Kieran exhaled and pulled his hand from Zyra's grasp. "Where do we start?" His voice was steady, but she felt the way his body resisted stillness—like something inside him was already struggling to be free.
Marek hesitated. "There was a temple… before the Rift swallowed this land. If the old magic remains, it might hold answers."
Zyra latched onto the hope. "Where?"
Marek pointed beyond the ruins, where the land stretched into a wasteland of shattered stone and eerie mist.
Riven muttered a curse. "Of course it's in the Rift's domain."
Kieran didn't flinch. "Then we go."
Zyra nodded, but her gut twisted. The Rift had already taken something from him.
Would stepping back inside take even more?
---
Shadows in the Fog
The journey was brutal.
The air itself grew heavier as they neared the Rift's edge, a thick mist curling along the ground. It clung to them like unseen fingers, sending chills through Zyra's spine.
Kieran walked ahead, his movements sharp, too controlled. As if he was forcing himself not to react.
But Zyra saw the way the mist moved toward him.
Like it recognized him.
"Are you feeling anything?" she asked softly.
Kieran hesitated before answering. "It's… familiar." His fingers twitched. "Like a voice I don't quite understand."
A cold sensation crawled up her neck.
They pressed forward, the ruined landscape shifting the deeper they went. The ground cracked beneath their feet, and what should have been solid rock… felt hollow.
Zyra tightened her grip on her dagger. "How close are we?"
Marek, struggling to keep up, pointed ahead. "Just beyond the ridge."
Then—
The ground trembled.
A whispering sound rose in the mist.
Zyra's breath caught. "Did you hear that?"
Riven pulled out his sword. "We're not alone."
From the fog—shapes emerged.
Not people. Not fully.
Their forms flickered, half-solid, faces distorted as if caught between this world and another.
Wraiths.
The Rift's remnants.
And they were coming straight for Kieran.
---
The Rift Calls Him Home
The first wraith lunged—silent and fast.
Kieran didn't move.
Zyra shoved him aside, slashing with her dagger. The blade passed through the creature, but it recoiled as if burned.
"Kieran, what are you doing?!" she shouted.
His hands were clenched at his sides, his breath ragged. "They're—"
The second wraith reached for him.
And Kieran caught it.
Zyra gasped.
The moment their forms connected, the wraith stopped struggling.
It leaned into his grip, its twisted face slack with something close to relief.
Then—Kieran's fingers tightened.
The wraith disintegrated.
The mist shuddered.
Zyra stumbled back. "Kieran…"
He turned to her, his silver eyes glowing faintly. "I understand them."
Riven's grip on his sword tightened. "What the hell is happening to you?"
Kieran exhaled slowly. "I don't know. But I can feel it now. The Rift… it's in me."
The words hung between them.
Zyra's stomach plummeted.
Kieran wasn't just changing.
The Rift was claiming him.
---
The Fractured Bond
They reached the temple ruins just before nightfall.
Massive stone pillars stood half-broken, twisted vines climbing their surface. The air hummed with magic—old, fragile, but still there.
Marek examined the crumbling entrance. "If anything remains, it's inside."
Kieran hesitated.
Zyra reached for him again. "Are you—"
"I'm fine." His voice was too sharp.
She pulled back, throat tightening. "You don't seem fine."
He finally looked at her. "What do you want me to say, Zyra?" His silver eyes burned. "That I feel something shifting inside me? That I don't know if I'm even me anymore?"
Her breath caught. "Kieran…"
"I can hear them," he whispered. "The wraiths. The Rift. And I don't know if it's trying to take me or—" His voice broke. "Or if I already belong to it."
Silence.
Then—Riven exhaled sharply. "We need to hurry."
Kieran nodded, the moment slipping away.
But as they stepped into the temple's shadows, Zyra made a silent vow.
She wouldn't lose him.
Not to this.
Not to the Rift.
Not to himself.
---