Morning didn't come in the Rift.
The sky outside the shattered cathedral remained locked in twilight—neither night nor day, only a pale, listless gray that soaked everything in silence. The flames from portable lanterns flickered low against the massive stone walls, casting long, ghostlike shadows that never stayed still.
What passed for rest had been shallow and scattered. No one truly slept—not in a place like this. But fatigue had taken its toll, and the survivors sprawled where they could: against pews, curled near fractured columns, or beneath broken arches where rain might've once trickled through.
Rowan hadn't moved.
Lucian had stayed at his side the entire night.
As rations were passed out, the weight of exhaustion clung to the group like damp cloth. Crinkling ration wraps and the low hum of hydration packets punctuated the quiet. Ari sat cross-legged near a collapsed wall, chewing silently through an energy bar while keeping one eye on the still-sealed entrance. Elias leaned back against a melted support beam, consuming nutrient paste without a word.
Juno muttered, "Never thought I'd miss military cafeteria mush."
Quinn responded only with a grunt, scanning his handheld for field metrics. Corruption readings were elevated—persistent but contained. That alone made him uneasy.
Lucian hadn't touched his ration. He sat against the cold stone wall with Rowan nestled beside him, as though shielding him from the lingering chill of the cathedral and the Rift alike. His arm remained firm around Rowan's shoulders, but his posture bent slightly inward, a curve of protectiveness that turned into quiet devotion.
When Rowan shifted in discomfort, Lucian was there, murmuring, adjusting the edge of his jacket, checking his pulse. Once, he unfastened his own cloak and draped it over both of them without a word.
His hand lingered at the back of Rowan's neck, thumb brushing the nape softly, grounding him. It was a gesture not born from duty, but from something deeper—intimate, almost reverent.
At one point, Lucian pressed his forehead gently to Rowan's temple, eyes closed, the breath he released trembled just enough to betray the weight he carried.
It wasn't a moment for show. No one interrupted.
Because they all knew—Lucian didn't just fight to protect Rowan.
He needed him.
And this was all he could give.
Rowan's pulse was stronger now, his breathing more even. But even in his half-conscious state, his mind churned with shadows. Every time his eyes fluttered closed, the vision returned—the Rift-mirror, the twisted reflection of himself.
It knew me, he thought dimly. Not just my role. Me.
The other Rowan had eyes like Lucian's when his corruption surged—violet burning gold. Except that version of himself wasn't fighting the Rift. He belonged to it.
A quiet terror seeped through him. It doesn't want Lucian. It wants what's between us.
Their bond. Their connection. That resonance that had pulled Lucian back from the edge.
Rowan tried to speak, but couldn't. His throat ached. Still, even in silence, he felt Lucian's steady warmth—his cloak draped around them both, his arm still firm, his thumb brushing his neck.
He's here. He didn't leave.
And in that moment, beneath the oppressive weight of a Rift that wanted to tear them apart, Rowan clung to one truth:
Then I won't leave him either. But Lucian's jaw remained tight, as though daring the Rift to try and take him again.
---
They began exploring after rationing.
The cathedral's heart had once been holy, but the deeper they moved, the more it felt like something had claimed it—repurposed it.
Torchlight exposed relief carvings long worn smooth, showing beings with elongated limbs and blank faces bowing before a central spire that extended to the ceiling. The aisles grew narrower, the architecture tighter, oppressive—as if guiding them toward something.
Vespera paused in front of a large door carved directly into the stone beneath the altar, half-covered in dust and fused bone. It hadn't been visible before. A Guide-sensitive tremor passed through the air—small, but unmistakable.
Quinn cleared away debris. The team drew closer.
The door towered nearly three meters tall, dominating the foundation beneath the altar like a sentinel carved from the spine of the Rift itself. It was wrought from obsidian alloy, so dark it drank the light from their lanterns, rippling with a strange iridescence just beneath its surface—like oil on black water.
Faintly luminous veins of violet and gold traced through the metal in slow, pulsing patterns, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to any living thing. The frame was crowned with arching ridges, curving upward like wings frozen mid-beat. The surface bore no traditional markings—only ancient impressions that shifted subtly when observed, each one pressing on the mind like a half-remembered word.
It wasn't just sealed—it was watching.
An unmistakable pressure radiated from it, as if daring someone to come closer. Not inviting.
Daring. Not letters—impressions.
A palm-shaped recess was embedded in the center.
As Rowan stirred, the door pulsed once.
---
His eyes snapped open.
Rowan gasped as if emerging from water, body jolting upright despite his injuries. Lucian caught him immediately, easing him back down.
"Rowan—hey, you're safe. We're still in the cathedral."
Rowan's hands trembled. "It saw me."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. "What did?"
Rowan looked toward the sealed door, pupils dilated. "It's behind there. I saw it when I was unconscious… or dreaming. I can't tell anymore."
He swallowed hard.
"There was a room… it looked like the cathedral, but warped. More decayed. There were hundreds of versions of us—copies—like echoes caught mid-fight. Mid-embrace. Mid-death."
Everyone had gone still.
"In the center," Rowan continued, "there was a mirror. Not glass. More like Rift essence shaped into a reflective pool."
He shuddered. "And it showed me. Just me. But older. Hollow. His eyes were gold and violet. And he said… 'You were never meant to wake up.'"
Lucian stiffened.
Rowan gripped his sleeve. "Lucian… it doesn't want you. It wants what's between us."
Vespera stepped forward. "The bond."
Rowan nodded slowly. "It wants to fracture it. Or feed on it. I don't know. But it's tethered to that door."
The door pulsed again.
Stronger.
Like it heard.
Like it agreed.
And then it pulsed a second time, deeper—vibrating the floor beneath their feet, stirring dust from the cracks in the stone.
Vespera's head snapped toward it. "The pressure's building. It won't stay sealed much longer."
Quinn moved to the center of the chamber, calling over the key personnel—Lucian, Elias, Vespera, Juno, Alexander, Ari. "We need to decide. If that door bursts open and we're unprepared, we risk the entire team."
"We're already risking everything just staying here," Elias said calmly. "Whatever's waiting isn't going to change its mind."
Lucian glanced at Rowan, still resting against his side, his breathing steadier now but still shallow.
Then Rowan stirred, pushing against Lucian's arm just enough to sit straighter. "It's tied to us," he said, voice hoarse but clear. "It showed me what it wants. And it's not going to stop. Not unless we face it."
"Rowan—" Lucian began.
But Rowan turned to him, eyes bloodshot but determined. "I'm going."
Lucian hesitated… then nodded once. Slowly. "Then I'm with you."
Vespera raised an eyebrow. "I'll monitor the team outside. But that door will open with or without us."
Quinn gave a final nod. "Then we go now. Small strike unit. No more waiting."
The team moved.
Lucian helped Rowan to his feet, steadying him. They stepped toward the door side by side.
And the door… responded.
The veins of light flared into brilliant resonance—gold and violet. The shifting symbols stilled, resolving into dual patterns: one matching Lucian's core signature*. The other, unmistakably Rowan's.
The door shuddered.
And with a thunderous hum, it began to open—on its own.
*Core signature refers to the unique resonance pattern or energy imprint generated by an Esper or Guide's powers—like a metaphysical fingerprint tied to their abilities and identity.
Think of it like this:
Every Esper and Guide has a distinct resonance frequency or energy pulse that can be sensed, tracked, or even recognized by Rift structures or entities.
It's used for sync compatibility, Rift interactions, or recognizing an individual's presence in areas saturated with Rift energy.
Advanced tech (like the LinkTrace Beacon) or certain Rift-sensitive beings or doors (like the sealed cathedral door) can respond to these core signatures.
In this case:
The door recognizing Lucian's and Rowan's core signatures means it's not just a lock—it's a sentient gate responding to who they are and their bond.