Smoke still whispered from the crater as Kael rose from the moss-laced floor of the forest, his body sluggish, aching with every motion. The sky had cleared above, as if mocking the storm that had raged within and without. Each step he took sent dull pain through his limbs, a reminder that the Rift was no longer cradling his movements like a loyal shadow. Now, he had only his will… and the faint flicker within.
The forest wasn't the same.
It was quieter.
But not safe.
A low rumble echoed from deeper within the woods. The kind that made birds scatter and trees lean away. Kael paused, ears sharpened. That sound… it was too heavy for anything small.
He turned toward it.
Amber eyes glowed between twisted branches. More than one pair.
Lions.
No—mutated lions, as if the Rift's residual energy had warped the forest's predators into something else. Their bodies were sleek and powerful, but their fur shimmered with faint hues of indigo and silver, like nebulae trapped in muscle and claw. They prowled forward, their forms blurring slightly, unnaturally silent.
Kael stepped back, heart pounding. His instincts screamed to summon Rift energy, to phase away, to attack first.
But he couldn't.
He reached inside himself—nothing but a dull ember.
Still, he clenched his fists. "If I die here," he muttered, "it won't be on my knees."
The first lion lunged.
Kael twisted, barely dodging, rolling into a patch of brambles. He hissed at the thorns biting into his skin but didn't slow. The second pounced, but he grabbed a fallen branch—thick, gnarled, a poor substitute for the Riftblade—and swung.
The crack of wood meeting skull echoed. The lion yelped, stumbling back.
The third beast circled. Kael narrowed his eyes. There was a rhythm. A pattern. Echoes of battle still played in his mind. His Battle Instinct may have been dormant, but muscle memory remained.
As the creature lunged, Kael sidestepped and drove the branch into its throat. It crumpled, twitching.
The last lion snarled, but Kael didn't flinch. He stepped forward.
And the beast… retreated.
Blood dripping from his side, Kael stood victorious.
Barely.
"I need to get home," he whispered.
And so, he limped toward the clearing where his wooden house once stood.
The forest thickened, yet the path felt familiar. The wind spoke in low tones, rustling old memories from between the leaves. He recognized the crooked tree where he used to carve sigils as a child. The brook he once purified with Riftlight. And there—between two towering oaks—was the edge of the clearing.
The wooden house stood, barely.
Its frame was warped. The front steps had collapsed inward, and the roof sagged like a weary traveler. One window hung loose, shattered. Ivy crept up the walls as if trying to reclaim it.
But it was still his.
Kael exhaled, a trembling sound halfway between relief and sorrow. He crossed the clearing, opened the broken door, and stepped inside.
The scent of wood, ash, and memory met him. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light.
He sank into the old chair by the hearth. The fabric was torn. The legs wobbled. But it held him.
He sat in silence.
And then… he felt it.
A pulse.
Subtle. Under the floorboards. Beneath the very roots.
The Rift.
Not the full force of it, no. But something buried. Residual. Like a heartbeat in a corpse.
Kael rose, wincing, and moved to the fireplace. He knelt, fingertips brushing the stone floor. The pulsing grew stronger.
Instinct guided him. He placed his palm against the ground and whispered, "Open."
Nothing.
He clenched his teeth. "I am the Gatekeeper. You remember me."
And the floor moved.
Stones shifted. Wood creaked. A hidden compartment slowly rose, revealing a crystalline fragment—jagged, black, pulsing with the faintest hue of violet.
A piece of the Rift.
Kael touched it.
His mind snapped open.
Visions flooded him—memories, dimensions, timelines collapsed and rewoven. His body trembled. The pain faded. The ember inside him flared.
A new energy surged through his veins—not the Rift as he once knew it, but something subtler. Stranger.
An evolution.
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED]
Name:Shardweave
Type: Passive/Active
Description: Though the Rift has been severed from its source, fragments remain embedded within your soul. You can now interact with broken energies, binding and reshaping residual dimensional threads. This allows limited reality manipulation through "weaving"—temporary barriers, weapon constructs, or minor temporal slows. Power increases with each recovered shard.
Kael gasped.
The crystal in his palm dissolved into light, flowing into his chest.
His muscles tightened, then relaxed.
His vision sharpened.
He stood, no longer shaking.
The house creaked around him. He glanced at the broken beams, the shattered frame.
"I can fix you now," he murmured.
Kael raised his hand.
And this time, the air answered.
Not with raw chaos—but with delicate threads of Riftlight. They danced around him like silver strands.
He reached out and wove.
The floorboards realigned. The beams rose, groaning but steady. The roof smoothed out. Ivy withdrew respectfully, as if recognizing its master's touch.
Window panes reformed.
The hearth roared to life.
In minutes, the house stood proud once more—not identical to before, but… better. Stronger. Infused with memory and power.
Kael stepped outside, feeling the grass under his feet, the wind brushing his hair.
Behind him, the house shimmered faintly, a beacon in the growing dusk.
He closed his eyes.
The forest was still dangerous.
Nihlari Prime was still watching.
But now…
He was no longer powerless.
Just reborn.
A mortal shell with the beginnings of something greater.
He stared into the sky. Somewhere beyond it, stars shifted uneasily. The predator of the Rift had made its move.
But Kael had survived.
He would gather the shards.
He would weave his path.
And when the time came…
He would open the Gate again.