The rift did not tear the sky apart.
It rotted it.
Aiden felt it before anyone else did—a low, crawling pressure beneath his skin, like reality itself had begun to itch. The air above the plains of Valenreach shimmered faintly, bending inward, as if the world were inhaling and forgetting how to exhale.
Fenrir noticed it seconds later.
"Hold," he said, raising his sentry staff. The runes along its length pulsed once—dim, cautious. "That's not a natural distortion."
The Shadow Seekers halted.
Grass lay flattened in a perfect circle ahead of them, scorched black despite the cold wind sweeping the plains. No fire. No lightning. Just absence. As if something had pressed reality down and left its mark.
Aiden stepped forward, the Nexus Beacon secured against his back. It hummed softly, not in warning—but in recognition.
"So it's begun," Liora murmured, her fingers tracing sigils in the air. "The texts said the first rifts wouldn't scream. They'd whisper."
Kael swallowed. "I don't like whispers."
No one laughed.
The sky above the circle darkened—not with clouds, but with something thinner. Veins of shadow crept across the blue, converging at a single point. The air twisted, folding inward, until a crack appeared—jagged, vertical, and wrong.
The first rift opened.
Veyra gasped sharply, her eyes glowing faint silver. "Something's coming through. Multiple signatures—unstable."
Aiden drew his blade.
"Formation," Fenrir ordered instantly.
They moved without hesitation.
Fenrir planted himself at the front, sentry magic flaring as translucent barriers snapped into place. Liora moved behind him, her focus narrowing as energy coiled around her palms. Kael vanished into motion, already circling. Torran melted into the shadows cast by the warped light, his presence thinning until even Aiden could barely sense him.
And Gareth—
Gareth stood still.
Not frozen. Not afraid.
Just watching.
His hand rested on the hilt of his weapon, but his eyes were locked on the rift itself, narrowed with a focus so intense it bordered on obsession.
Aiden noticed—but said nothing.
The rift convulsed.
Something fell out of it.
It hit the ground on all fours with a wet, scraping sound. Then another. Then three more.
Creatures—if that word still applied.
They were tall, skeletal, their limbs too long and bent at impossible angles. Their skin looked like burned parchment stretched over shadows. No eyes. No mouths. And yet—
They sensed.
One tilted its head toward Fenrir and shrieked, a sound like tearing metal dragged across bone.
"Contact!" Fenrir shouted.
The creatures lunged.
Aiden moved.
The Nexus Beacon flared as he drew power through it—not unleashing it fully, just enough to lace his strike with distortion. His blade cleaved through the first creature's torso, slicing shadow and matter alike. The thing convulsed, a glowing, jewel-like core flickering briefly in its chest before shattering.
It died screaming.
Kael struck next, his movements a blur—sliding beneath a claw, driving twin daggers upward into another creature's core. Liora's magic followed, precise and controlled, pinning a third long enough for Torran to emerge from nowhere and end it silently.
But the last creature—
It hesitated.
Not in fear.
In curiosity.
It turned its head toward Gareth.
Aiden felt it then.
A pull.
Subtle. Wrong.
"Gareth—move!" Aiden called.
Too late.
The creature lunged—but not at Gareth.
At his shadow.
The darkness beneath Gareth's feet twitched, pulling unnaturally toward the creature. Gareth reacted instantly, rolling aside as Fenrir's barrier slammed down between them.
Aiden destroyed the thing in one strike.
Silence followed.
The rift above them flickered—then sealed itself with a soundless collapse, as if it had never existed.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Fenrir exhaled slowly. "That confirms it."
"Confirms what?" Kael asked, wiping black residue from his blade.
Fenrir turned to Aiden. "These aren't random incursions. They're probes. The Non-Space is testing us."
Liora nodded grimly. "They reacted to the Beacon. And to…" her gaze flicked briefly to Gareth, "…something else."
Gareth finally looked away from where the rift had been.
"It felt like it knew me," he said quietly.
No one replied.
Aiden studied him—not accusing, not fearful. Just thoughtful.
"None of this is coincidence," Aiden said at last. "If rifts are opening now, it means the boundary is weakening faster than we predicted."
"And if this is the first," Veyra added softly, "then more will follow."
Far more.
Fenrir knelt, inspecting the scorched ground. His expression darkened. "This terrain… it's been marked. The Non-Space isn't just bleeding through. It's learning how to stay."
Aiden tightened his grip on his sword.
"Then we don't wait," he said. "We hunt the rifts. We seal them before they stabilize."
"And if we can't?" Kael asked.
Aiden glanced back at the Nexus Beacon.
"Then we make sure whatever's on the other side regrets opening the door."
The wind shifted.
Somewhere far beyond sight, something ancient stirred—drawn not by fear, but by power.
By the Beacon.
And by the path Aiden had just chosen.
Unaware that every step forward was shaping a future none of them could yet see.