The wind tasted different.
It wasn't the ethereal crispness of Elaria's forests or the electric tang of magical flux. It was heavy with steel and smoke. Beneath his boots, the ground was solid concrete, cracked and veined with moss. Aether stepped fully through the portal—and into a world that felt both alien and heartbreakingly familiar.
He was back on Earth.
But something was wrong.
Skyscrapers loomed like jagged bones against a bruised-purple sky. Neon signs flickered erratically, buzzing with faulty energy. Cars lay abandoned on the streets, covered in grime and vines. Aether moved carefully, his senses heightened. This wasn't the Earth he remembered from childhood stories and fragmented memories.
It was something else.
Something twisted.
"Welcome to Nexus-8," a voice said behind him.
Aether spun, hand on his sword, but stopped short. The figure was human—or at least, mostly. A woman in a tattered pilot's uniform, one eye glowing faintly blue with some kind of neural implant. Her posture was relaxed, but the pulse rifle slung over her shoulder said otherwise.
"You're... from Earth?" Aether asked cautiously.
She smirked. "What's left of it. You're from Elaria, aren't you? The mana signature is... loud."
"How do you know Elaria?" he asked.
"Because you're not the first to come through the Rift. Just the first in a long time who wasn't trying to conquer this side."
Aether's brows drew together. "What happened here?"
She gestured to the skyline. "Magic happened. Or rather—your people brought it here two centuries ago. Didn't end well. We've been patching the ruins ever since."
Aether's heart sank. So this was the future the Oracle had warned him about—a world where the veil had broken and the lines between Earth and Elaria blurred, leaving both worse for wear.
"I need to find someone," he said, stepping forward. "Her name is Lyra. She—she's the Guardian of the Gate now."
The woman's expression darkened. "Then you're too late."
He froze. "What do you mean?"
"The Gate's Guardian doesn't stay in one place. They're bound to the core of the Rift. Always moving, always sealed. It's how the breach is stabilized. There's no known way to track them. No known way to... reunite."
Aether's grip on his blade tightened. "There has to be a way. I didn't leave her behind just to lose her forever."
She studied him for a moment. "You're determined. Good. You'll need that. But before you go chasing myths, maybe start by surviving your first day in Nexus."
As if summoned by her words, a siren blared through the streets—shrill, metallic, and urgent. Red lights burst to life on the rooftops. The woman cursed under her breath.
"Mana surge. Sector 3 breach."
"What does that mean?"
"It means the Rift's unstable again. Something's coming through—and it's not friendly."
Aether drew his sword without hesitation. "Then let's meet it."
They ran together through narrow alleyways, the city shifting around them like a living thing. Graffiti symbols glowed faintly along the walls—warding runes, distorted by urban decay. Aether felt the mana in the air thicken, like humidity before a thunderstorm.
When they reached Sector 3, the ground was already split open. A jagged tear pulsed in the air, swirling with violet and black. Creatures poured out—twisted amalgamations of beasts and machines, snarling with fractured mouths and clawed limbs.
"Voidspawn," she muttered. "These used to be people... before the Rift got to them."
Aether didn't hesitate.
With a roar, he leapt forward, blade singing through the air. The first creature lunged, but he ducked low, slicing across its abdomen. It screeched—more in agony than death—and exploded into tendrils of shadow that dispersed into the wind.
The woman followed, firing in calculated bursts, covering his blind spots. They moved like they'd fought together for years, even though they hadn't exchanged names.
Aether's mana surged. Without Lyra to balance it, it was wild—furious, raw. He channeled a barrier just in time to block a blast from a Voidspawn's molten claw, then countered with a burst of flame that left the alley scorched and hissing.
More came. And more.
Just when it seemed like they'd be overrun, a burst of blue light descended from above. A dome formed, pushing the creatures back. A squad of armored enforcers dropped from hovercrafts—half-human, half-arcane, like knights fused with machines.
The creatures retreated, fading into the Rift.
One of the armored figures stepped forward. "Aether Valen," he said, voice crackling through the speaker. "You are summoned by the Council of the Crossworld Accord. Immediately."
Aether blinked. "How do you know my name?"
"You were prophesied."
And just like that, the city felt even colder.
The woman beside him—now panting, her rifle steaming—nudged him with her elbow. "Looks like you've got more fans than you thought."
"I don't like fans who show up with guns."
"Then you're really gonna hate the Council."