The air in the new realm was thick with ash, the sky a deep, bruised red that stretched endlessly in every direction. Fires burned in the distance, casting flickering shadows across the barren ground. The smell of smoke and charred earth was suffocating, filling Riven’s lungs with every breath.
The shard in his pack pulsed violently, its glow leaking faintly through the fabric. Riven adjusted the strap, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword as he scanned the desolate landscape. “This place is worse than the last one,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the oppressive heat.
Lyra floated beside him, her spectral glow dim against the crimson haze. “The realm is on the edge of collapse,” she said, her tone grim. “The Veil’s corruption has almost taken it completely.”
Riven frowned, his gaze narrowing as he spotted movement in the distance. Shapes flickered at the edge of his vision—figures that moved unnaturally, their forms twisted and broken. “Echoes?” he asked, drawing his sword.
“No,” Lyra replied, her voice tense. “Worse. These are the Veil’s enforcers—shades. They’re stronger, faster, and far more dangerous.”
“Fantastic,” Riven said dryly. He adjusted his grip on his weapon, his body tensing as the shades drew closer. Their forms became clearer—humanoid, but warped, their limbs elongated and jagged. Their eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light, and their movements were jerky as if they were being puppeteered by an unseen force.
“They’re guarding something,” Lyra said, her gaze fixed on the shades. “The shard is close. It has to be.”
The shades didn’t wait for Riven to make the first move. One of them lunged, its elongated limbs slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Riven parried the attack, the force of the impact rattling up his arms. Sparks flew as his sword clashed against the creature’s jagged appendage.
Another shade darted in from the side, its movements unnervingly fluid. Riven twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike as he drove his blade into the creature’s chest. The shade let out a hollow, guttural scream before dissolving into black smoke, but two more quickly took its place.
“They’re endless,” Riven growled, sidestepping another attack. “We can’t fight them all.”
Lyra unleashed a burst of spectral energy, the light scattering several shades into vapor. “We’re not supposed to,” she said urgently. “The shard is the priority. If we destroy it, the shades will fall with it.”
Riven nodded, his gaze darting toward the faint pulsing light in the distance. “Cover me,” he said, breaking into a sprint.
As Riven raced toward the shard’s location, the ground beneath him trembled. Cracks spiderwebbed across the scorched earth, glowing faintly with crimson light. The shard was embedded in a massive, jagged structure at the center of the realm—a spire of obsidian that pulsed with the same sickly energy as the Veil.
But before he could reach it, the ground erupted in front of him. A massive figure emerged from the earth, its form towering over him. It was humanoid, but its body was made of blackened stone, veins of red light pulsing beneath its surface. Its eyes burned with the same yellow glow as the shades, and in its hands was a massive blade forged from the same corrupted material.
Lyra’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent. “Riven, that’s a Guardian. It’s bound to the shard. We can’t destroy the shard without going through it.”
“Of course, we can’t,” Riven muttered, raising his sword as the Guardian turned its gaze on him.
The creature let out a deafening roar, the force of the sound knocking Riven back a step. It charged, its massive blade cleaving through the air with terrifying speed. Riven barely managed to dodge, the blade striking the ground and sending a shockwave rippling through the earth.
“Any advice?” Riven shouted, rolling to his feet.
“Hit it hard,” Lyra called back, her spectral form darting around the Guardian as she unleashed bursts of energy at its joints. The attacks slowed it down but didn’t stop it, the creature swatting at her with one massive hand as though she were an insect.
Riven gritted his teeth, gripping his sword tightly. “Hard it is.”
As the battle raged, Riven could feel the Void Corruption stirring in his veins, its whispers growing louder. This is too much for you. Let us help. Let us take over.
He shoved the voice down, forcing himself to focus. But the Guardian was relentless, its strikes coming faster and harder with every moment. Riven’s muscles screamed in protest, his movements slowing as exhaustion set in.
Lyra’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “Riven, the corruption—it’s feeding on the shard’s energy. If we don’t end this soon, it’s going to overwhelm you!”
“I’m open to suggestions!” he shot back, dodging another swing from the Guardian’s blade.
Lyra hesitated, her glow dimming as she weighed their options. Finally, she spoke, her voice filled with determination. “The fissures in the ground—they’re linked to the shard. If we can destabilize them, it might weaken the Guardian long enough for you to destroy the shard.”
Riven nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let’s do it.”
Lyra darted toward the nearest fissure, her spectral energy flaring as she began channeling light into the crack. The ground trembled violently, the crimson glow within the fissure flickering as her energy disrupted it.
The Guardian let out another roar, turning its attention toward Lyra. Riven seized the opportunity, driving his blade into the creature’s leg. The Guardian stumbled, its movements slowing as the fissures around it began to destabilize.
“Now, Riven!” Lyra shouted, her voice strained. “Destroy the shard!”
Riven sprinted toward the spire, his heart pounding. The Guardian roared in protest, but its massive frame collapsed as the fissures gave way beneath it. Riven reached the shard, its pulsing light growing chaotic as the spire began to crack.
He raised his sword, the Void Corruption surging in his veins. The shard’s energy pressed against him, its power almost overwhelming. But he didn’t hesitate. With a cry of defiance, he brought the blade down, shattering the shard into a burst of light and shadow.
The ground beneath him buckled, the realm itself beginning to collapse. Riven turned, racing toward Lyra as the fissures widened, swallowing everything in their path.
The realm was tearing itself apart. The fissures in the ground widened into gaping chasms, spewing crimson light and shards of obsidian into the ash-filled air. The distant fires roared higher, their glow swallowed by the growing chaos. The shard’s destruction had unleashed a ripple of unstable energy, and the world around Riven and Lyra was falling apart faster than either could have anticipated.
Riven sprinted toward Lyra, his boots skidding on the unstable ground. The air was thick with smoke and heat, each breath burning his lungs. “Lyra! We need to move!”
Lyra hovered over one of the fissures, her spectral form flickering erratically. She glanced at Riven, her glow dim but steady. “The collapse is spreading faster than I expected. We need to find an anchor point—a stable part of the realm—if we’re going to get out of here alive.”
Riven grit his teeth, his grip tightening on his sword. “Then find one. I’ll hold off whatever’s left.”
The Guardian hadn’t dissolved with the shard. It had fallen, crippled by the destruction of the fissures, but its massive form still stirred. The red veins pulsing through its obsidian body flickered like dying embers, but the yellow glow of its eyes had reignited, fixed squarely on Riven. It let out a low, guttural growl as it pushed itself upright, its massive blade dragging through the ground.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Riven muttered, raising his sword as the creature advanced.
The Guardian moved slower now, its once-terrifying speed reduced to heavy, labored strides. But its presence was no less menacing. Every step it took cracked the ground beneath it further, the chasms spreading like a web toward Riven.
Lyra darted back toward him, her voice sharp and urgent. “Riven, you can’t waste time on this thing! The realm’s destabilizing too quickly—we have minutes at best.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“If I let it go, we’ll have seconds,” Riven shot back. He lunged at the Guardian, his blade glowing faintly with the energy of the Void Corruption. The sword struck the creature’s leg, severing one of the pulsing red veins. The Guardian roared, swinging its massive blade in a wide arc.
Riven ducked, the blade missing him by inches as it carved through the ground. The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, the ground beneath them groaning in protest. The fissures glowed brighter, their edges jagged and sharp like teeth.
Lyra unleashed another burst of spectral energy at the Guardian, striking its chest. The light exploded on impact, forcing the creature to stumble back. “That’s all I can give you,” she said, her glow dimming further. “You have to finish this, Riven!”
As Riven prepared to deliver the final blow, the air around them shifted. The ash-filled sky darkened further, and a cold wind swept through the collapsing realm. Riven froze, his instincts prickling as he sensed a new presence.
From the shadows of the collapsing spire, a figure emerged. Tall and cloaked in tattered black, its face was obscured by a hood, but its aura was unmistakable—an extension of the Veil itself. The figure raised a hand, and the Guardian froze mid-movement, its body locking in place like a puppet with its strings cut.
Riven stepped back, his sword at the ready. “Who the hell are you?”
The figure’s voice was smooth and cold, each word laced with an unsettling calm. “A servant of inevitability. You’ve been meddling in forces beyond your comprehension, Custodian.”
Lyra floated closer to Riven, her glow brightening slightly. “It’s an Arbiter,” she whispered, her voice tense. “One of the Veil’s enforcers. They only appear when something threatens its larger plans.”
The Arbiter turned its hooded gaze to Lyra, its presence radiating disdain. “And yet you persist, little fragment. You cling to the remnants of a shattered Archive as if it will save you.” It extended a hand toward Riven, a faint tendril of shadow snaking toward him. “You’re wasting your strength, Custodian. The Veil is eternal. You cannot destroy what has always been.”
Riven tightened his grip on his sword, the Void Corruption in his veins flaring in response to the Arbiter’s presence. “Maybe not,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I can make it bleed.”
The Arbiter tilted its head, as if amused. “Foolish.”
Before Riven could move, the Arbiter waved its hand, and the Guardian’s massive frame dissolved into black smoke. The fissures beneath them pulsed violently, the ground trembling as the realm’s collapse accelerated. The Arbiter turned its gaze back to Riven, its voice growing darker.
“You think you’re saving these realms by collecting shards and tearing at the Veil’s edges. But all you’re doing is delaying the inevitable. The Archive cannot restore what is lost. It cannot stop the Void.”
Riven narrowed his eyes, his sword still raised. “And you’re here to make sure of that, I take it?”
The Arbiter stepped closer, the shadows around it writhing like living things. “I am here to warn you. The Veil is patient, Custodian. Every action you take, every shard you recover, brings you closer to understanding the truth. And when you do, you will wish you had let the Veil consume you.”
The figure raised its hand again, and the fissures around them erupted, the light within them blinding. The ground beneath Riven’s feet began to crumble, and Lyra’s voice rang out, panicked.
“Riven, we have to go! Now!”
The Arbiter vanished into the shadows, leaving the realm to collapse in its wake. Riven turned, sprinting toward Lyra as the ground gave way behind him. The fissures widened, swallowing the remains of the spire and sending shards of obsidian flying through the air.
Lyra darted ahead, her voice sharp. “There’s an anchor point ahead—if we can reach it, I can stabilize the jump!”
Riven pushed himself harder, his muscles screaming in protest. The Void Corruption in his veins surged, its whispers urging him to give in, to draw on its strength. Let us in, and you’ll survive.
“Not today,” Riven growled, shoving the voice down as he reached the glowing anchor point—a faint circle of light amidst the chaos. Lyra hovered above it, her form flaring as she prepared the jump.
“Hold on!” she shouted.
The light enveloped them, and the collapsing realm dissolved into blinding white.
The white light of the anchor point faded slowly, leaving Riven gasping for air. His boots crunched against solid ground, the feeling almost jarring after the chaos of the collapsing realm. He stumbled forward, bracing himself against his knees as his lungs struggled to recover from the ash-filled air.
Lyra hovered beside him, her spectral glow flickering weakly. “We made it,” she said, her voice strained but steady. “Barely.”
Riven straightened slowly, his muscles aching with every movement. The Void Corruption in his veins pulsed faintly, quieter now but still present—a lingering reminder of its hold on him. “Where are we?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Lyra glanced around, her expression unreadable. They stood on a barren plateau, the ground smooth and gray, as if carved from stone. The sky above was a shifting mix of muted colors—blue, violet, and silver—like the remnants of a shattered mosaic. In the distance, faint, jagged silhouettes loomed against the horizon, their shapes too distorted to recognize.
“A liminal space,” Lyra said. “It’s where the shards’ energy stabilizes before we re-enter the Veins of Eternity. Think of it like a safe room between realms.”
Riven let out a bitter laugh, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. “Safe. Right.”
The weight of the shard in his pack was impossible to ignore. Its light still pulsed faintly, though it had dimmed since the moment he shattered its counterpart. Riven slipped the pack off his shoulder, pulling the shard free and holding it up. The energy within it felt heavier than before, more oppressive, as though it had absorbed some of the collapsing realm’s chaos.
Lyra drifted closer, her gaze fixed on the shard. “It’s changing,” she said, her voice tinged with unease. “The Veil’s energy is clinging to it. That’s... not supposed to happen.”
Riven frowned, his grip tightening on the shard. “What does that mean?”
Lyra hesitated, her glow dimming. “I’m not sure. But if the Veil’s influence is spreading even into the shards we recover, it means the balance between the Archive and the Void is shifting. And not in our favor.”
Riven exhaled sharply, slipping the shard back into his pack. “Then we move faster. If the Veil’s adapting, we don’t have time to waste.”
Lyra nodded, though her expression remained troubled. “There’s something else,” she said quietly. “That Arbiter—it wasn’t just there to stop us. It was trying to send a message. Did you hear what it said?”
“That I’d wish the Veil had consumed me,” Riven muttered, his jaw tightening. “They’re trying to scare us. It’s not going to work.”
Lyra’s glow brightened slightly, though her tone remained cautious. “Maybe. But Arbiters don’t appear randomly. It means you’re closer to the truth than the Veil wants you to be.”
Riven glanced at her, his brow furrowing. “And what truth is that?”
Lyra hesitated again, her form flickering. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But whatever it is, it’s tied to the shards—and the Archive. The Arbiter’s warning wasn’t just about the Veil. It was about what happens if we succeed.”
Before Riven could respond, the air around them rippled, a faint distortion running through the liminal space. He turned, his hand instinctively moving to his sword. From the shimmering horizon, two figures emerged, their forms silhouetted against the strange, shifting light.
As they drew closer, Riven’s grip tightened. Both were humanoid, but their appearances were distinctly foreign. The first was clad in battered armor, its surface covered in strange, iridescent patterns that shimmered like oil on water. The figure’s face was obscured by a mask, its features sharp and angular. The second figure was smaller, cloaked in layers of tattered fabric that shifted unnaturally, as though the air around it refused to settle.
“Riven,” Lyra said, her voice low. “They’re not from this realm. Be careful.”
The armored figure stopped a short distance away, its voice ringing out with a sharp, metallic edge. “Custodian,” it said, the word dripping with disdain. “You’ve disrupted more than you realize.”
Riven didn’t lower his weapon. “And who are you supposed to be?”
The smaller figure stepped forward, its voice softer but no less dangerous. “Survivors,” it said. “Like you. But unlike you, we’ve learned to stop fighting the inevitable.”
Lyra floated closer to Riven, her glow flaring protectively. “They’re corrupted,” she said, her tone urgent. “I can feel the Veil’s influence on them.”
The armored figure tilted its head, its voice turning cold. “We are enlightened. The Veil does not destroy—it transforms. And those who resist only prolong their suffering.”
“Then I’ll take my suffering over whatever the hell you’ve become,” Riven said, his tone sharp.
The smaller figure chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. “Bold words, Custodian. But you won’t survive long without answers. And the only answers you’ll find are through the Veil.” It gestured to the horizon, where the faint silhouettes of collapsing realms shimmered in the distance. “This path you walk will destroy you unless you learn to see the truth. Let us show you.”
Riven raised his sword, his voice firm. “I’ve seen enough lies to last a lifetime. If you want me, come and get me.”
The two figures exchanged a glance before stepping back into the mist. The smaller one’s voice echoed faintly as their forms began to dissolve. “The Veil is patient, Custodian. You’ll see it for what it truly is soon enough.”
As the figures disappeared, the liminal space grew quiet once more. Riven lowered his sword, his mind racing. He glanced at Lyra, her spectral form still flickering.
“What was that about?” he asked, his voice edged with frustration.
Lyra shook her head, her glow dimming. “They’re the Veil’s tools—agents sent to manipulate or break you. But there’s something else... they didn’t attack. They were trying to plant doubt.”
Riven frowned, his jaw tightening. “It won’t work. Whatever they’re hiding, we’ll figure it out.”
Lyra hesitated, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “I hope you’re right,” she said softly. “Because the closer we get to the truth, the harder it’s going to be to hold onto what’s real.”
Riven adjusted the strap of his pack, his resolve hardening. “Then we don’t stop. Whatever’s waiting at the end of this, we’ll face it.”
Together, they pressed forward, the fractured light of the liminal space casting long shadows ahead of them.