The air beyond the Shatterfield was unnaturally still, as if the world itself held its breath. Aethren and Kaelor trudged forward, their surroundings shrouded in an oppressive gray mist that clung to their skin like damp cloth.
“Where are we now?” Aethren asked, his voice low, wary of breaking the eerie silence.
“The Fringe,” Kaelor replied, scanning the mist with sharp eyes. “A no-man’s-land between the Shatterfield and the Rift’s Edge. Few survive long here.”
“Encouraging.” Aethren gripped the shard tighter, its light flickering like a nervous heartbeat.
Kaelor didn’t respond, his focus entirely on their surroundings. The Fringe had a reputation, even among seasoned warriors like him. It was a place where reality twisted, where time and space bent to the Abyss’s will. And the Rift was always watching.
----------------------------------------
Hours passed, though it was impossible to tell time in the perpetual haze. The ground beneath their feet was soft and uneven, littered with strange, skeletal remains. Some looked humanoid; others were grotesque, with limbs that defied logic.
“What happened to them?” Aethren asked, unable to look away from a skull with three eye sockets.
Kaelor’s jaw tightened. “Victims of the Abyss. Some were explorers, like us. Others... were creations of the Rift itself.”
Aethren shivered, quickening his pace to keep up with Kaelor. The shard pulsed faintly, as if sensing his unease.
----------------------------------------
As they ventured deeper into the Fringe, the mist began to take on an unnatural quality. Shadows moved within it, flickering just out of sight. Whispers rose again, but this time they were different—not the personal taunts of the Shatterfield, but a collective murmur, like a crowd speaking in hushed tones.
“They’re watching us,” Kaelor said, his hand resting on his sword.
“Who?”
Kaelor didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head, listening to the whispers, his expression grim. “The Abyssal Watchers. They’re scouts, extensions of the Rift’s will. They’ll test us before we can reach the Edge.”
“Test us how?”
Kaelor smirked without humor. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
----------------------------------------
The answer came sooner than Aethren expected.
The ground trembled, a deep rumble that grew steadily louder. Shapes emerged from the mist—hulking figures that stood unnaturally tall, their bodies wrapped in dark, flowing cloaks. Beneath the hoods, glowing red eyes burned like embers.
“Stay close to me,” Kaelor ordered, drawing his blade.
Aethren nodded, raising the shard. Its light grew brighter in response to the Watchers, casting long, shifting shadows across the landscape.
The Watchers moved in unison, their steps unnaturally smooth. One raised a long, skeletal hand and pointed directly at Aethren.
“It’s him they want,” Kaelor said grimly. “Don’t let them touch you, no matter what.”
----------------------------------------
The first Watcher lunged, its cloak billowing as it moved with unnatural speed. Kaelor met it head-on, his blade slashing through the air in a flash of silver. The Watcher’s arm dissolved into ash where the sword struck, but the creature barely faltered.
A second Watcher closed in on Aethren, its glowing eyes fixed on the shard. Aethren raised the shard instinctively, and a wave of light burst forth, forcing the creature back.
“They’re vulnerable to the shard,” Aethren called out, his voice trembling.
“Good,” Kaelor grunted, cutting down another Watcher. “Use it wisely.”
----------------------------------------
The Watchers didn’t bleed or scream. Each time they were struck down, their forms crumbled into black mist, only to reform moments later. It was a battle of attrition, and Aethren could feel his energy waning with each pulse of light.
“There’s too many of them!” he shouted, backing away from a Watcher that had reformed behind him.
Kaelor glanced at him, his expression tense. “They’re not trying to kill us. They’re wearing us down. Testing your resolve.”
“Well, they’re doing a great job of it!”
----------------------------------------
As the battle raged on, the shard began to glow more intensely. Aethren felt a surge of energy, a connection to something vast and ancient. The shard’s light pulsed rhythmically, almost like it was trying to guide him.
“Kaelor!” Aethren shouted. “I think the shard wants me to do something.”
“Then do it!” Kaelor replied, his blade slicing through another Watcher.
Aethren closed his eyes, focusing on the shard. The light within it grew brighter, spreading outward like ripples on water. He felt the Watchers’ presence pressing against his mind, cold and invasive. But the shard pushed back, its light forming a barrier that repelled the shadows.
When Aethren opened his eyes, the Watchers had stopped moving. They stood frozen, their glowing eyes flickering.
“What’s happening?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kaelor lowered his blade, his breathing heavy. “You’ve done it. The shard’s power disrupted their connection to the Rift. But it won’t last long.”
----------------------------------------
The mist began to recede, revealing a jagged cliff in the distance. Beyond it, a swirling vortex of black and purple light dominated the horizon.
“The Rift’s Edge,” Kaelor said, his tone grim. “We’re almost there.”
Aethren stared at the vortex, his stomach churning. “That’s where we’re going?”
Kaelor nodded. “If you thought this was bad, you’re not ready for what comes next.”
Aethren swallowed hard, gripping the shard tighter. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”
Kaelor clapped him on the shoulder. “No one ever is. But ready or not, the Rift waits for no one.”
Together, they began their final approach to the Rift’s Edge, the weight of their journey pressing heavily on their shoulders.