The jagged peaks of the Veins of Eternity loomed closer with every step, their sharp ridges cutting against a sky painted in muted reds and grays. The warmth in the wind from earlier had vanished, replaced by a biting chill that seeped into Riven’s bones. The shard in his pack pulsed faintly, its light barely visible through the fabric, as though it, too, was bracing for what lay ahead.
“This place feels... wrong,” Lyra said, her spectral glow flickering uneasily. She floated closer to Riven, her gaze scanning the horizon. “There’s something here. Something the Veil hasn’t fully consumed yet.”
Riven adjusted the strap of his pack, his fingers brushing against the hilt of his sword. “What do you mean ‘not fully consumed’?” he asked, his tone wary.
Lyra hesitated, her form dimming. “Some realms are easier for the Veil to devour—broken worlds where despair runs unchecked. But places like this... they resist. The people here, whoever they were, fought back. Their will lingers, even after the Veil has taken everything else.”
Riven exhaled sharply, his breath misting in the cold air. “So what does that mean for us?”
“It means this realm isn’t stable,” Lyra said grimly. “And if we’re not careful, it could take us with it.”
As they crested a ridge, the terrain shifted abruptly, the silver sands giving way to a barren expanse of cracked earth. Deep fissures crisscrossed the ground, glowing faintly with a crimson light that pulsed in time with a distant, rhythmic thrum. The sound was faint at first, like the beat of a distant drum, but as they descended into the valley, it grew louder, more insistent.
“The Crimson Divide,” Lyra murmured, her voice barely audible over the drumming. “This place was once a battlefield. The people here fought the Veil with everything they had, but they couldn’t hold it back. The divide... it’s what’s left of their defiance.”
Riven glanced at her, his brow furrowing. “You sound like you know this place.”
Lyra’s glow dimmed, her gaze fixed on the fissures below. “I... remember pieces,” she admitted. “Fragments of what the Archive showed me. The Veil doesn’t just destroy realms—it takes their stories, twists them, and buries them in places like this. This was one of the first.”
Riven’s grip on his sword tightened. “And now it’s part of the Veins of Eternity,” he said bitterly. “Another casualty in a war we’re losing.”
Lyra floated closer, her glow steadying. “Not if we stop it,” she said firmly. “The shard we took from Korrith—it’s reacting to this place. There’s something here we need to find.”
Riven nodded, though his expression remained grim. “Let’s hope whatever it is doesn’t kill us before we get to it.”
The path into the Crimson Divide was treacherous, the fissures widening as they descended deeper into the valley. The ground beneath their feet was unstable, each step sending small cascades of debris tumbling into the glowing cracks below. The rhythmic thrum grew louder, the sound resonating in Riven’s chest like the beating of a second heart.
“Be careful,” Lyra warned, her voice sharp. “This place is alive in ways you can’t see. The Veil might be gone, but its presence lingers.”
“I’ve noticed,” Riven muttered, his gaze flicking to the fissures. The crimson light within them seemed to shift and swirl, almost as though it were watching him. He shook his head, forcing the thought aside as he focused on the path ahead.
They reached a plateau overlooking the heart of the divide—a massive chasm that stretched as far as the eye could see. The crimson light within it pulsed like a heartbeat, casting eerie shadows across the jagged walls. At the center of the chasm, suspended in mid-air, was a glowing fragment of crystal—its light flickering erratically, as though caught between life and death.
“That’s it,” Lyra said, her voice tinged with awe. “Another shard of the Veil’s core.”
Riven frowned, his eyes narrowing. “And let me guess—getting to it won’t be easy.”
As if in response, the air around them shifted, the temperature dropping sharply. From the shadows at the edges of the chasm, figures began to emerge—humanoid shapes formed of jagged crystal and crimson light. Their movements were stiff and unnatural, their glowing eyes fixed on Riven and Lyra.
“Echoes?” Riven asked, drawing his sword.
Lyra shook her head, her glow flaring as she readied herself. “Worse. These are the remnants of the people who fought here. Their defiance is what kept the Veil at bay, but now... it’s all that’s left of them.”
Riven’s grip tightened on his weapon as the figures advanced, their jagged limbs slicing through the air with precision. “So they’re not going to let us take the shard.”
“No,” Lyra said grimly. “But we don’t have a choice.”
The first of the figures lunged, its crystal blade flashing in the crimson light. Riven met the attack head-on, the clash of weapons sending sparks flying. The battle for the shard had begun.
The jagged figures closed in, their limbs carved from the same fractured crystal that filled the chasm below. Their glowing eyes burned with a singular purpose, the remnants of their will to fight still etched into their movements. Riven deflected the first strike, his sword vibrating under the force of the clash. The creature’s crystalline arm splintered, shards scattering to the ground—but it didn’t falter.
“They don’t stop,” Lyra called, darting between the advancing figures. Her spectral energy flared as she launched a blast of light at one of the crystal warriors, shattering it into a cloud of shards. “They’re bound to this place—bound to the fight they couldn’t finish.”
“Perfect,” Riven muttered, driving his blade into another advancing figure. The edge of his sword cut cleanly through its midsection, but the creature simply reformed, the fragments of its body snapping back together like a shattered mirror piecing itself whole. “They’re not just stubborn—they’re immortal.”
Lyra hovered at his side, her glow flickering as she prepared another burst of energy. “Not immortal. Persistent. There’s a difference.”
“Not one I’m enjoying right now,” Riven growled.
The ground beneath their feet trembled as the chasm’s crimson light flared, the rhythmic thrum echoing like a war drum. Riven adjusted his stance, his boots slipping slightly on the unstable rock. Another crystal figure lunged at him, its blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. He sidestepped the attack, countering with a sweeping strike that sent the creature crashing into the fissures below.
“These things aren’t mindless,” Riven said, his breath coming in short bursts. “They’re working together.”
Lyra nodded, her expression grim. “Whatever’s left of their minds is focused on one thing—protecting the shard. The Veil twisted their purpose, but their determination is still theirs.”
Riven parried another strike, his muscles screaming in protest. The battle was relentless, and the crystal warriors showed no signs of tiring. He could feel the Void Corruption stirring in his veins, the dark energy feeding on his exhaustion and frustration. Its whispers pressed against his mind, tempting him with the promise of strength.
You can’t win like this. Let us in. Let us help you finish this.
“Not happening,” Riven muttered, gritting his teeth as he struck down another warrior.
Lyra darted toward him, her spectral form flickering as she spoke. “Riven, we can’t keep this up. There are too many of them, and the shard’s energy is only making them stronger.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Riven said, driving his blade through another attacker. The crystal figure shattered, its fragments scattering across the plateau—but even as it fell, two more took its place.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Lyra hesitated, her glow dimming as she considered their options. “The shard is amplifying their connection to this place. If we can disrupt that connection, we can stop them.”
Riven slashed at another warrior, his movements slower now as fatigue set in. “And how exactly do we do that?”
“The fissures,” Lyra said, nodding toward the glowing cracks in the ground. “They’re linked to the shard. If we can overload them, it might sever the bond holding these things together.”
Riven glanced at the fissures, his brow furrowing. “Overload them how?”
Lyra’s expression hardened. “With me.”
He froze, his sword halfway raised to block another strike. “What?”
“I can channel my energy into the fissures,” Lyra explained quickly. “It’ll disrupt the shard’s influence long enough for you to grab it.”
“And what happens to you?” Riven demanded, his voice sharp.
Lyra hesitated, her glow flickering. “I’ll be fine,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction. “I’ve done worse.”
“That’s not an answer,” Riven snapped, his frustration boiling over. “You’re not sacrificing yourself for this.”
“I’m not sacrificing anything,” Lyra shot back, her voice rising. “This is what I’m here for, Riven. To help you. To fight with you. If I don’t do this, we both die—and so does this realm.”
Riven hesitated, his jaw tightening. He wanted to argue, to find another way, but the sight of the endless crystal warriors advancing toward them silenced him. They didn’t have time for second-guessing.
“Fine,” he said finally, his voice low. “But if this goes sideways—”
“It won’t,” Lyra interrupted, her glow brightening. “Trust me.”
Lyra darted toward the nearest fissure, her spectral energy flaring as she began to channel. Tendrils of light extended from her form, sinking into the glowing cracks in the ground. The crimson light within the fissures flickered and pulsed, growing erratic as her energy collided with it.
The effect was immediate. The crystal warriors froze mid-step, their glowing eyes dimming as their connection to the shard weakened. The rhythmic thrum of the chasm faltered, its steady beat replaced by a chaotic, uneven pulse.
“Now, Riven!” Lyra called, her voice strained. “Get the shard!”
Riven didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, dodging the still-frozen warriors as he closed the distance to the chasm’s edge. The shard hovered above the abyss, its light pulsing wildly as the energy around it destabilized. He reached out, his hand brushing against its surface.
The moment his fingers closed around the shard, a surge of energy ripped through him. His vision blurred, the world dissolving into a chaotic swirl of light and shadow. The Void Corruption in his veins flared violently, its whispers screaming in protest as the shard’s energy collided with the darkness inside him.
You can’t control this. Let go. Let us take over.
“No,” Riven growled, his voice raw. He clenched his fist around the shard, forcing the Void’s influence back with sheer will. “This is mine. Not yours.”
The shard’s light dimmed, its chaotic energy settling as Riven brought it under control. The fissures in the ground stopped pulsing, their crimson glow fading into darkness. The crystal warriors collapsed, their fragmented bodies crumbling into lifeless shards.
Lyra drifted toward him, her form flickering as she steadied herself. “You did it,” she said, her voice filled with relief.
Riven exhaled heavily, his grip on the shard tightening. “No,” he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the darkened chasm below. “We did.”
The Crimson Divide was silent. The once-blazing fissures had dimmed to faint, lifeless cracks, and the shattered remains of the crystalline warriors lay scattered across the plateau like remnants of a forgotten battle. Riven stood at the chasm’s edge, the shard in his hand glowing faintly against the deep shadows below.
Lyra hovered nearby, her spectral glow flickering with exhaustion. “The shard is stable,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “You handled it better than I expected.”
Riven didn’t respond immediately. His gaze was fixed on the shard, its faint light casting shadows across his scarred hands. The weight of its power pressed against him, mingling with the ever-present hum of the Void Corruption in his veins. He could feel the shard’s connection to the Veil—a thread still intact but frayed.
“It doesn’t feel like a victory,” he said finally, his tone heavy. “We’ve got one more shard, but how many more are out there? How many more realms are falling apart while we scrape together pieces of this thing?”
Lyra floated closer, her expression softening. “Every shard we recover weakens the Veil. Every realm we save gives us a better chance. It matters, Riven—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
Riven exhaled sharply, slipping the shard into his pack. Its light faded, leaving only the dim, cold glow of the plateau around them. “I just wonder if it’ll ever be enough,” he muttered.
As they began their ascent out of the Crimson Divide, the terrain shifted again, the cracked earth giving way to jagged cliffs and narrow pathways carved into the stone. The rhythmic thrum of the fissures had faded entirely, replaced by an oppressive stillness that seemed to stretch endlessly into the gray sky.
Riven’s steps were heavy, the exhaustion of the fight settling into his bones. Lyra floated beside him, her glow faint but steady as she scanned the horizon. “This realm feels... quieter,” she said, her tone cautious. “Too quiet. The Veil may be gone, but something else lingers here.”
Riven frowned, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. “What do you mean?”
Lyra hesitated, her form flickering. “The people who fought here—they left something behind. Their defiance was powerful enough to keep the Veil at bay for a time, but that kind of will doesn’t just disappear. It leaves... echoes.”
“More echoes?” Riven muttered, his tone edged with frustration. “Great. Because the last ones weren’t enough of a headache.”
Lyra’s glow brightened briefly, a flicker of amusement crossing her features. “Not like the ones we faced before. These aren’t hostile—they’re... memories. Fragments of the people who lived here. If we’re lucky, they might help us.”
Riven raised an eyebrow, skepticism written across his face. “You think memories are going to help us take down the Veil?”
“Every realm has a story, Riven,” Lyra said, her voice soft but firm. “And stories have power. If we can uncover what happened here—what the Veil couldn’t take from them—it might give us an edge.”
THEY REACHED A PLATEAU OVERLOOKING THE REMNANTS OF A LONG-ABANDONED VILLAGE. THE STRUCTURES WERE LITTLE MORE THAN CRUMBLED STONE AND SCATTERED DEBRIS, BUT THE AIR WAS THICK WITH AN ENERGY RIVEN COULDN’T QUITE PLACE. HE SLOWED HIS STEPS, HIS GAZE SCANNING THE RUINS FOR ANY SIGN OF MOVEMENT.
Lyra drifted ahead, her glow intensifying as she hovered near the center of the village. “There,” she said, her voice tinged with urgency. “Do you see it?”
Riven followed her gaze to a faint shimmer in the air—a distortion, like heat rising from the ground. As they approached, the shimmer solidified into a figure, its form flickering like a projection on the edge of breaking apart. It was humanoid, dressed in tattered armor, its face obscured by a helmet. The figure stood motionless, its hands resting on the hilt of a massive, broken sword embedded in the ground.
“An echo,” Lyra murmured, her tone reverent. “But not like the ones we fought. This one is... intact.”
Riven frowned, his hand tightening on his sword. “What does that mean?”
Before Lyra could answer, the echo stirred. Its head tilted slightly, and though its face was hidden, Riven could feel its gaze boring into him. When it spoke, its voice was deep and resonant, carrying a weight that sent shivers down his spine.
“You are not of this realm,” the echo said, its tone devoid of malice but heavy with authority. “Why have you come here?”
Riven hesitated, caught off guard by the question. He glanced at Lyra, who gave a small nod, urging him to respond.
“We’re here to stop the Veil,” he said finally, his voice steady. “To take back what it’s stolen.”
The echo was silent for a long moment, its form flickering faintly. “The Veil cannot be stopped,” it said at last. “It consumes all. It devours hope, memory, and will. What makes you think you can succeed where we failed?”
Riven stepped forward, his jaw tightening. “Because we don’t have a choice,” he said, his tone hard. “I’ve seen what the Veil does. I’ve fought it. And as long as I can still stand, I’m not giving up.”
The echo regarded him silently, its broken sword glinting faintly in the dim light. Finally, it inclined its head. “Then you will need strength greater than your own.” It raised a hand, pointing toward the horizon where the jagged peaks rose against the sky. “The path ahead is perilous, but it will lead you to what you seek. Prove your resolve, and the shards of this realm will reveal their truth.”
Before Riven could respond, the echo dissolved, its form scattering into faint motes of light that drifted upward and disappeared. The air around them grew still again, the village once more silent and empty.
Riven turned to Lyra, his expression a mixture of determination and weariness. “What do you think?” he asked. “Is it worth trusting a ghost?”
Lyra’s glow brightened, her voice filled with quiet resolve. “It’s not about trust. It’s about the story. If this realm still has something to tell us, we need to listen.”
Riven nodded, his gaze shifting to the distant peaks. The weight of the shard in his pack felt heavier than ever, but it also felt like a reminder of why he couldn’t stop now. He adjusted his grip on his sword, his steps firm as he began the climb.
“Let’s see what this story has to say,” he said.
Together, they pressed on, the path ahead shrouded in uncertainty but lit by the faintest glimmer of hope.