The sensation of falling was unlike anything Kaelen had ever known.
It wasn't merely the pull of gravity or the rush of wind past his ears.
No—this fall was deeper, quieter, like slipping through the seams of reality itself.
The world dissolved into cascading fragments: slivers of memory, light, shadow, and sound, all spinning around him in a slow, impossible spiral.
And then—
Stillness.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that presses on your bones.
That makes your heartbeat feel like a drum echoing through the void.
Kaelen landed hard. Not on ground, not exactly—on something that felt like stone but shimmered like water beneath his hands. The sky above was no longer the churning chaos of the Rift. It was a great canvas of starlight, unmarred by clouds or moon. Just endless night, and stars that blinked with ancient, watching eyes.
He pushed himself up slowly, muscles aching, breath catching in his throat. The air tasted metallic, like the moment before a storm.
And then he heard it.
A heartbeat.
Not his.
Not Rina's.
The sound pulsed all around him, rhythmic and deep, as if the world itself lived and breathed with a slow, deliberate cadence. Each beat thudded in his chest like a second heart—one not his own, but synced with his pulse nonetheless.
He turned—and there she was.
Rina lay a few feet away, curled on her side, her cloak tangled, hair splayed across the strange luminous surface. She groaned, one hand moving to her temple. Her fingers twitched. Then stilled.
"Rina!" Kaelen rushed to her side, shaking her gently. "Wake up. Come on."
Her eyes fluttered open—unfocused, glazed, until they found him.
"…Kaelen?"
Relief hit him like a tide. "Yeah. I've got you."
She winced, trying to sit up. "Where… where the hell are we now?"
Kaelen stood, scanning their surroundings.
It looked like a cathedral carved from stars.
Great arches of shimmering matter stretched upward, held aloft by pillars that shifted subtly when you weren't looking directly at them. In the distance, shapes moved behind veils of mist and memory. Echoes, not quite people. Not quite shadows. Watching. Drifting.
"We fell through the Rift," Kaelen said quietly. "Or something like it."
"Great," Rina muttered, finally standing. "So we're… what? Dead? Dreaming?"
"I don't think so." His voice was low, thoughtful. "I think we're somewhere else. Somewhere outside of the in-between."
As if summoned by his words, a new presence stirred.
A voice, deep and resonant, filled the air. Not through ears—but through thought. It spoke directly into them, bypassing flesh and language.
"You have reached the Threshold."
The light shifted—and something stepped forward.
It was tall—inhumanly so—wrapped in robes that fluttered without wind. Its face was veiled in starlight, its limbs long and graceful. Not entirely male or female. Not entirely flesh or spirit. It bore the elegance of something divine, and the weight of something terrible.
Rina instinctively reached for her blade.
The being raised a hand—not threatening, but stilling.
"Violence does not exist here. Only truth."
Kaelen squared his shoulders. "What is this place?"
"A memory. A mirror. A reckoning."
The words rippled like music played backward.
Kaelen felt something shift inside him, a deep pull toward the figure—as if it knew him. Had always known him.
"You carry the fracture," it said, tilting its head. "You, child of dusk and ash, walk the line between what was and what must be."
Rina blinked. "...Okay. That's vague and weirdly poetic. Do you always talk like that?"
A strange sound—like laughter, but distant and hollow—resonated through the air.
Kaelen stepped forward. "You said this is a reckoning. What does that mean?"
The entity moved aside, revealing something behind it.
A mirror.
Tall and arched, made of a material that shimmered with memories not yet lived.
"Face what you were," it whispered. "And you may shape what you become."
Kaelen hesitated only a moment. Then he stepped toward the mirror.
The surface did not reflect him.
It showed a different boy—younger, softer, eyes full of grief.
The Kaelen before. Before the loss. Before the blade. Before the blood-soaked nights.
He saw his mother smiling down at him. His father teaching him to track and fight. The warmth of a fire he hadn't felt in years.
Then—flashes.
The massacre. The Sanctuary gates closed to the cries of the forgotten. The slums. The shadows. The man he had become.
And deeper still—a flicker of power, buried, ancient. Something locked beneath his skin.
The mirror shuddered.
Cracks webbed across its surface, spidering toward the edges like frozen lightning.
Kaelen reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the mirror—
—everything changed.
The chamber dissolved into blinding light.
Rina called his name, her voice echoing through the void. But Kaelen didn't answer.
He was somewhere else now.
Somewhere ancient.
Somewhere deep.
And something had just awakened.