The journey back to Valdris was marked by an uneasy silence. Greyveil Forest receded into the distance, but its ominous presence lingered in their minds. The defeat of the Rift Knight was a victory, yet it felt hollow. Damien couldn’t shake the feeling that they had only scratched the surface of the Rifts’ growing power.
The team camped that night under a canopy of stars. The crackling fire offered little comfort, its light casting flickering shadows on the surrounding trees.
Roland broke the silence first. “That Rift Knight… it wasn’t just a leader. It felt like a soldier in an army.”
Lyra nodded, her expression grim. “And if there’s one soldier, there will be more.”
Cassian sat cross-legged, sharpening an arrowhead. “The Council won’t like this. They’ve been treating the Rifts like isolated threats, not an organized invasion.”
Damien stared into the fire, Ebonfang resting across his lap. “They’ll have to listen now. We’ve seen what’s coming. It’s only a matter of time before the Rifts overwhelm the frontier.”
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A HAUNTING VISION
As the team settled in for the night, Damien found sleep elusive. The weight of the mission, the danger of the Rifts, and the evolving nature of their enemy pressed heavily on his mind.
When sleep finally came, it was restless and fragmented.
He found himself standing in a vast, dark void. The air was thick with a suffocating energy, and in the distance, he saw a figure cloaked in shadow. It stood at the edge of a massive Rift, its form barely discernible save for two piercing eyes that glowed with an unnatural light.
“Bladebearer,” the figure’s voice echoed, deep and resonant, filling the void. “You meddle in forces beyond your comprehension.”
Damien gripped Ebonfang tightly, the blade pulsing with light. “Who are you?”
The figure didn’t answer directly. Instead, it raised a hand, and the Rift behind it expanded, its swirling energy revealing glimpses of cities burning, armies clashing, and the very fabric of reality tearing apart.
“This world’s fate is sealed. The Rifts are not a curse—they are its destiny.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll stop you.”
The figure let out a low, menacing laugh. “You can delay the inevitable, but you cannot prevent it. Every strike you make, every victory you claim… brings you closer to your own end.”
The vision shifted abruptly. Damien was now surrounded by shadowy figures, all wielding weapons similar to Ebonfang. Their eyes glowed faintly, but their forms were twisted, corrupted by the same energy as the Rifts.
The voice echoed one last time. “Beware, Bladebearer. Not all who wield the light remain pure.”
Stolen story; please report.
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A MORNING OF DETERMINATION
Damien woke with a start, the first rays of dawn breaking through the trees. His heart pounded as he sat up, the vision still fresh in his mind.
Lyra was already awake, tending to the fire. She glanced at Damien, noting his tense expression. “Bad dream?”
“Something like that,” Damien muttered, standing and stretching. “We need to get back to Valdris as soon as possible.”
The rest of the team quickly broke camp, sensing the urgency in Damien’s tone. As they mounted their horses and resumed their journey, Damien couldn’t shake the figure’s words. The implication that others like him could fall to the darkness of the Rifts gnawed at his thoughts.
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THE CITADEL’S RESPONSE
By midday, the team arrived at the gates of Valdris. The city was as busy as ever, but a palpable unease hung in the air. News of increased Rift activity had clearly spread, and the citizens moved with a sense of urgency.
Damien wasted no time, leading his team straight to the Citadel. They were ushered into the Council chamber, where Alaric, Morganna, Garrick, and Lyanna awaited them.
“Report,” Alaric commanded, his sharp gaze fixed on Damien.
Damien recounted their mission in detail, from the discovery of the Rift cluster to the battle with the Rift Knight. The council listened intently, their expressions growing darker with every word.
When he finished, Morganna leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled. “A Rift Knight. That confirms our worst fears.”
Garrick slammed a fist on the table. “We’ve been treating this like a skirmish. It’s war.”
Lyanna’s calm voice cut through the tension. “If these Knights are indeed soldiers, we must prepare for the possibility of a full-scale invasion.”
Alaric stood, his commanding presence filling the room. “We must act immediately. Reinforce the eastern frontier and mobilize more task forces. Damien, your team will spearhead these efforts.”
Damien nodded. “We’re ready. But there’s more.”
The council leaned in as Damien recounted his vision, the shadowy figure and its ominous warning. “Whoever or whatever that was, they’re orchestrating this. They believe the Rifts are inevitable, and they’re not just content with invasion—they want total destruction.”
Morganna’s eyes narrowed. “If this figure is real, then it’s our greatest threat yet.”
Lyanna added, “And if it can influence others, we must be wary of betrayal within our ranks.”
Alaric’s gaze hardened. “Then we prepare for the worst. Damien, your mission is twofold: find and destroy these Rift clusters, and uncover the identity of this shadowed figure.”
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THE NEXT STEP
As the council adjourned, Damien and his team gathered in a side chamber. The weight of their new mission hung over them, but there was no hesitation in their eyes.
“We’ve faced worse odds,” Roland said with a smirk. “What’s a few more Rifts?”
Lyra placed a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “We’re with you. Wherever this leads.”
Cassian adjusted his quiver. “Let’s hope Eryndor has something useful from that shard. We’ll need every advantage.”
Damien looked at each of them, his resolve solidifying. “We’ll stop this invasion. Whatever it takes.”
Together, they prepared for the battles ahead, knowing that the road would only grow darker. But with the bonds they shared and the strength they’d gained, they were ready to face whatever lay beyond the next Rift.
The war had begun in earnest, and they would be the light in the coming storm.