The twilight stretched endlessly across the shattered plains, its pale light filtering through the haze of drifting ash. The group moved in silence, their footsteps echoing faintly against the ruins they had left behind. The encounter in the ancient temple had left them shaken, but what lingered most was the weight of revelation—of what Arlen had once been, and what he might still become.
The world around them seemed… quieter now. Too quiet. No wind, no rustle of distant creatures. Only the soft hum of the air itself, like the world was holding its breath.
Lira walked beside Arlen, glancing at him every now and then. His expression was calm, but his eyes were different—distant, stormy, as if a thousand thoughts were colliding behind them.
"You've been silent since the ruins," she said finally.
He looked at her briefly, then forward again. "There's nothing to say yet."
"There's everything to say," she pressed. "You saw yourself—your past. You saw what you were."
He stopped walking. The others paused behind him. Slowly, Arlen turned, his voice low and even.
"I saw what I was made into."
That silence again. Kaine frowned. "You're saying someone made you that way?"
Arlen nodded faintly. "The Celestial Forges. The place where the first guardians were shaped. They didn't just train us—they rewrote us."
Lira's eyes narrowed. "And you think that's why the Rift responds to you?"
"I don't think," he said. "I know."
He stepped forward again, and the ground beneath them pulsed with faint blue veins of light—like the earth itself recognized his presence. The others exchanged uneasy looks, but no one spoke. Not yet.
They walked until twilight faded to night.
When they finally stopped, they made camp at the edge of a broken cliff overlooking a valley of shimmering mist. Faint echoes of movement could be seen below—spectral forms gliding through the fog, their shapes indistinct.
Kaine stared down at them. "This whole valley's a graveyard."
"Not a graveyard," Rynel murmured. "A scar."
Arlen sat at the cliff's edge, staring at the distant lights. His thoughts drifted to the words Ardentis had left him with. Protect what you hold dear, even when the heavens burn. He wasn't sure if he had the strength to live up to that—if he even deserved to.
Lira approached quietly, sitting beside him. The firelight flickered across her face, softening the edges of her usual resolve.
"Are you scared?" she asked.
He gave a faint, humorless smile. "I think I've forgotten how to be."
"Don't say that." Her tone was gentle but firm. "You haven't forgotten. You've just buried it."
He looked at her then—really looked—and something in his chest tightened. "You always sound so sure of me."
"Someone has to be," she said simply.
A long pause.
He turned back toward the horizon. "When I saw those memories, it wasn't just power. It was… isolation. Endless. Like I was made to stand apart from everything—every person I ever cared about."
Her voice softened. "You're not him anymore, Arlen. You don't have to be alone now."
He didn't answer. But for the first time, he didn't turn away.
Below them, a faint tremor rippled through the valley. The mist shifted, glowing brighter. Rynel stood instantly, scanning the darkness. "Something's moving down there."
They all rose. The air thickened with static energy. Kaine whispered a detection incantation; his staff pulsed, revealing countless signatures below—flickering like embers.
"Dozens," he muttered. "No—hundreds."
The mist began to churn, rising toward them like a living tide.
Lira drew her blades. "It's coming up!"
From the valley floor, the Riftlings emerged—larger, more grotesque than before. Their bodies seemed made of both flesh and shimmering crystal, their movements erratic, driven by some unseen will.
"Defensive formation!" Lira shouted.
Rynel took position on higher ground, bow drawn. Kaine planted his staff, runes flaring around him. Arlen stood between them, frost spreading slowly from his feet, forming a widening circle of ice across the cliff.
The first wave hit—shrill, inhuman screeches piercing the night. Arlen moved like a storm, his frost and lightning weaving together into blinding arcs. Every swing of his hand shattered enemies into shards of ice and mist.
Lira was beside him, blades flashing. Rynel's arrows whistled overhead, precise and deadly. Kaine's magic pulsed like a heartbeat, barriers flaring each time the Riftlings surged too close.
But the swarm didn't stop. The ground trembled. A massive Riftling burst from below, twice the size of the others, its body armored in molten crystal. It roared, sending a shockwave that cracked the cliff beneath them.
"Fall back!" Kaine yelled.
The monster swung its claws, scattering them. Arlen barely rolled aside, frost shielding him at the last second. Lira struck at its legs, but her blades barely pierced the crystal shell.
"Rynel!" she shouted. "Aim for the joints!"
"I'm on it!"
His arrows flew—each one striking where flesh met crystal, sending splinters flying. The creature roared, stumbling. That was all Arlen needed.
He drew the frost and lightning together, his eyes glowing faintly. The air itself seemed to freeze.
Then he moved—faster than sight.
He appeared before the creature, thrusting both hands into its chest. Lightning and frost erupted in perfect unison—Frostfire Nova.
The explosion was blinding. When the light faded, the Riftling had frozen mid-scream, then shattered into dust.
Arlen staggered, dropping to one knee. Steam rose from his hands.
"Arlen!" Lira ran to him, gripping his shoulders. "You're overusing it again!"
He smirked faintly. "Would've preferred I let it hit you?"
She glared, but her voice wavered. "You're impossible."
Rynel and Kaine approached, scanning the area. The remaining Riftlings had vanished into the mist, retreating back into the valley.
"Temporary victory," Kaine muttered. "They'll regroup."
"Then we move before they do," Arlen said, standing.
Lira frowned. "You can barely stand."
"I've had worse."
She opened her mouth to argue—but stopped. His eyes weren't defiant. They were determined, calm, focused. The kind of look she'd seen in him only a handful of times before.
They packed up and continued through the night, the mist curling at their feet as if following them. Hours passed before the first hints of dawn appeared on the horizon—soft gold bleeding through the gray.
As the light grew stronger, the corruption seemed to weaken. The air felt lighter, the tremors stopped.
Finally, they reached the edge of the valley, where a half-buried gate stood—a relic of an older age. Symbols like those from the ruins were etched into its surface.
Rynel brushed the dirt off one of them. "You think this leads somewhere?"
Arlen's gaze darkened. "Yes. To where it all began."
Lira looked at him carefully. "You mean the Celestial Forges."
He nodded once.
A cold wind swept through the gate's archway, carrying whispers—faint, echoing, ancient.
> "Return, Heir of Frostfire. The shadow remembers…"
The group exchanged uneasy glances. But Arlen only stepped closer, his hand brushing the gate's surface.
"Then let it remember."
The symbols flared to life. The air rippled. And in a blinding flash, the world folded in on itself—pulling them through.
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