The ground shook beneath them as if the earth itself were trying to tear itself apart.
Lyra barely had time to react before the force of the rift sent her crashing into the ancient stones of the courtyard. She gasped, breath knocked out of her, her fingers scrabbling at the jagged rocks beneath her as the wind screamed around them.
"Get up!" Lucien's voice cut through the chaos, harsh and strained. "We need to close it—now!"
Kai was already on his feet, his eyes wild with panic. He glanced at Lucien, then to Lyra, before making a run toward the center of the courtyard, where the rift continued to expand, its edges writhing like a living thing.
Lyra scrambled to her feet, her mind spinning with the panic that had gripped her chest. The Wraiths were stirring—she could feel their presence even before the shadows began to form.
Dark figures, like silhouettes made of smoke, flickered at the edges of the rift. They were not solid, not entirely corporeal, but their hunger was undeniable. Lyra's skin prickled with cold as their presence pushed against her senses, each breath she took feeling heavier than the last.
"We have to move faster!" Kai shouted, his hand trembling as he reached for his dagger. "I don't think we have much time before they break through."
Lucien stepped forward, his eyes locked onto the rift with an almost hypnotic intensity. His hand trembled as he reached for the complex runic circle inscribed on the ground beneath their feet. It was the seal they had created, a binding spell from the last life, meant to keep the rift closed.
But it was weakening. Failing.
"We're running out of time!" Lucien snapped, his voice ragged. "The Wraiths will invade our world if we don't act quickly. Lyra, the seal!"
Lyra didn't need any further prompting. Her heart thundering in her chest, she began to trace the intricate symbols in the air with her fingers, her magic pulsing in response to her movements. She could feel the ancient power coursing through her veins, the same magic she had used in a thousand lives, each time binding the rift, sealing the door.
But this time, it wasn't enough.
The rift was pulling at her, dragging her in with a force she couldn't counter. The Wraiths were close now, their shadows solidifying into twisted shapes, their faces hidden behind masks of smoke and fog. They were growing more tangible with every passing second.
"Lyra!" Lucien's voice broke through her concentration. "Focus! We need to complete the circle. This is the only way to contain them!"
She nodded, pushing back the wave of fear that threatened to drown her. With a deep breath, she doubled her efforts, chanting the old incantation under her breath as she drew the final rune. The magic flared—brilliant and unstable.
And then the rift shifted.
A cold, otherworldly laugh echoed from the void.
Lyra froze, the incantation dying on her lips. She looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief as the shadows around them writhed and twisted.
It's too late.
She didn't know how she knew, but the sensation was unmistakable. The rift had already grown beyond their control. The Wraiths were no longer just attempting to breach—they were flooding in.
One of them, a tall figure cloaked in a tattered shroud, stepped through the rift with a fluid motion, its face a mask of shifting shadows. The others followed, their forms flickering in and out of existence like mirages.
Lucien stepped forward, his expression hardening. "We can't let them through!"
His hands flashed with dark energy as he summoned a barrier of light between them and the Wraiths. But the barrier flickered, its edges rippling and unstable, as if it, too, was caught in the grip of the rift.
"Damn it!" Lucien cursed. "It's too weak. They're already inside!"
The Wraiths moved with terrifying speed, their bodies twisting and warping in unnatural angles as they circled the group. Their eyes—or what passed for them—were like voids, bottomless and filled with endless hunger.
One of them lunged toward Lyra, its hand reaching for her throat, but before it could make contact, she thrust her palm forward, sending a burst of raw magic into its form. The creature howled in pain, its body writhing as the magic burned through it. But it didn't die.
It didn't even fade.
Instead, it seemed to grow stronger, the damage healing almost instantly.
"What the hell are these things?" Kai shouted, his dagger slashing through the air, but his strikes passed through the Wraiths' forms like air. They didn't leave so much as a scratch.
"They're not alive," Lucien said grimly, his gaze flicking toward Lyra. "They're remnants of the Void. Fragments of souls that were torn between worlds. And if we don't stop them, they'll consume everything—everyone."
Lyra's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the pull of the Void—the way it tugged at her soul, tempting her to step inside, to join the endless darkness. It was like an echo of her own fate, stretching out before her.
She couldn't let it happen again.
"We need to close the rift!" Lyra shouted, her voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them. "Lucien, I'll need your help. Kai, keep them off us!"
Kai didn't hesitate. He lunged at the nearest Wraith, his blade flashing in the dim light, but the creature dodged effortlessly, its shape twisting in ways that defied the laws of nature.
"We don't have much time!" Lyra urged, her magic already gathering around her, the air crackling with the tension of an unstable spell. "Lucien, now!"
Lucien nodded, stepping to her side. His hands moved in a rapid, practiced sequence, weaving the threads of power that would bind the rift. Together, their magic flared, intertwining in a brilliant explosion of light.
But the Wraiths were still coming.
They were relentless, and now more than ever, they were hungry.
The crack in the Veil was widening.
Lucien's voice broke through the chaos. "Lyra, focus!"
With a desperate cry, she forced all her energy into the spell, pushing past the walls of her fear, pouring her heart into the incantation that had once sealed the world from darkness. The air around them pulsed violently.
And then—there was silence.
For a moment, the storm ceased. The Wraiths froze in mid-motion, their forms flickering erratically before they collapsed into shadows.
The rift began to shrink.
The Hollow Mirror was closing.
But not without a price.
The last Wraith—a towering figure—extended its hand toward Lyra as it dissipated into the air, its void-like eyes locked onto hers.
We will return, little one.
Then, with a final, deafening crack, the rift sealed.