Kael awoke to the sound of distant voices. The sun had barely risen, its weak light filtering through the cracks in the shutters of his small room above the forge. He rubbed his eyes, but the restless images from the festival lingered. The rift, the Weaver, the Luminae Knight—they all felt like fragments of a vivid nightmare. Yet, the weight in his chest told him it was all too real.

The voices grew louder, breaking his reverie. He threw on his tunic and boots and hurried downstairs. Outside the forge, a crowd had gathered, their faces tight with worry. At the center stood the Luminae Knight, their armor gleaming even in the dull morning light. Beside them was Master Orin, his expression grim.

Kael pushed through the crowd. “What’s going on?”

The Knight’s gaze fell on him, piercing and unyielding. “Kael, isn’t it?”

Kael blinked, stunned that they remembered him. “Y-yes, sir. Or ma’am,” he stammered, unsure of the Knight’s title.

The Knight ignored his awkwardness. “Good. You’ll want to hear this.”

Orin stepped forward, his gruff voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. “The Knight has news. And not the good kind.”

The Knight raised a gauntleted hand, silencing the villagers. “Rifts like the one you witnessed at the festival are spreading. We’ve detected another nearby, deep in the Whispering Woods.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. The Whispering Woods were a place of mystery and danger, their dense canopies hiding countless secrets.

“We must seal it,” the Knight continued, “before its presence destabilizes the area further. I will need volunteers to guide me there.”

The crowd fell silent. No one dared step forward.

Kael’s heart raced. He felt the familiar pull, the same strange sensation he had experienced during the festival. It was as if an invisible thread was tugging him toward the woods, urging him to act.

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I’ll go.”

Orin’s head snapped toward him. “Kael, no. This isn’t your fight.”

“It is now,” the Knight said, their tone firm. They nodded to Kael. “Your courage is noted. Anyone else?”

After a tense pause, an older hunter named Garrek stepped forward. “I know the woods better than anyone. I’ll guide you.”

The Knight inclined their head. “Very well. Gather what you need. We leave within the hour.”

The Whispering Woods were aptly named. As Kael, the Knight, and Garrek ventured deeper, the trees seemed alive with faint murmurs. The canopy above was so thick that only slivers of light pierced through, casting an eerie glow on the forest floor.

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Kael gripped the hilt of the blade he had brought, his palms slick with sweat. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find—a glowing rift, perhaps, or the Weaver waiting to taunt them again.

The Knight walked ahead, their every movement purposeful. “Stay alert,” they said. “Rifts attract... anomalies.”

“Anomalies?” Kael asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Creatures that shouldn’t exist,” the Knight replied. “Fragments of times long gone or yet to come.”

Kael swallowed hard.

They walked in tense silence until Garrek suddenly raised a hand, signaling them to stop. He pointed ahead to a clearing where the air shimmered unnaturally, as though reality itself was bending.

The rift.

It was smaller than the one at the festival but no less unsettling. Its edges crackled with energy, and within its fractured surface, Kael glimpsed flashes of strange landscapes—a fiery desert, a storm-lashed sea, a cavern glittering with crystals.

The Knight drew their sword, its crystalline blade glowing faintly. “Stay back,” they ordered.

As they stepped toward the rift, the air grew colder. A low growl echoed through the clearing, followed by the appearance of a hulking beast. It was unlike anything Kael had ever seen—its body was a patchwork of scales and fur, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

“An anomaly,” the Knight said, raising their sword. “Garrek, keep Kael safe.”

The beast lunged. The Knight met it head-on, their blade flashing as it clashed against the creature’s claws. The air rang with the sound of battle, but Kael couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rift.

The pull was stronger now, almost overwhelming. He took a step forward, then another.

“Kael!” Garrek hissed. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Kael admitted. “I just... I feel like I’m supposed to—”

Before he could finish, the rift flared. A wave of energy knocked him to the ground, and for a moment, everything went white.

When Kael’s vision cleared, he was no longer in the forest.

He stood in a vast, open field beneath a sky that shifted between day and night. Strange plants with luminous petals swayed in a breeze that didn’t touch his skin. In the distance, he saw towering spires of crystal, their surfaces reflecting a thousand different worlds.

“What is this place?” he murmured.

“You shouldn’t be here,” a voice said behind him.

Kael turned to see a figure cloaked in black and silver—the Weaver.

Kael’s hand went to his sword, but the Weaver chuckled. “Do you think that little blade can harm me?”

“What do you want?” Kael demanded, his voice trembling.

The Weaver tilted their head, studying him. “It’s not about what I want, but what you are destined to become.”

“What are you talking about?”

The Weaver stepped closer, and Kael felt the air around them grow heavy. “The threads of time are frayed, boy. The Crystal’s shattering was no accident, and its restoration will require more than brute strength or noble intentions.”

Kael’s heart pounded. “Why me?”

“That,” the Weaver said, their voice dropping to a whisper, “is the question you must answer for yourself.”

Before Kael could respond, the Weaver raised a hand. The strange field dissolved around him, and he found himself back in the forest.

The Knight was kneeling beside him, their helmet removed to reveal a stern yet compassionate face. “Kael, are you all right?”

“I... I saw them,” Kael said, his voice shaky. “The Weaver. They spoke to me.”

The Knight’s expression darkened. “What did they say?”

“They said... the Crystal’s shattering wasn’t an accident.”

The Knight cursed under their breath. “This is worse than I thought.”

“What do we do now?” Kael asked.

The Knight stood, helping him to his feet. “We prepare. The path ahead will be dangerous, but you’ve already proven yourself braver than most. If the Weaver has taken an interest in you, then perhaps you are meant to play a role in this.”

Kael’s stomach churned at the thought, but he nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“For now, rest,” the Knight said. “This battle is far from over, and we’ll need every ounce of strength you have.”

As they began the journey back to Greystone, Kael couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had just been irrevocably changed.