Through the Rift

The storm tore through the landscape like a beast unleashed, violet lightning crackling overhead, splitting the sky in furious strokes. Arlen stood at the very edge of the rift, heart pounding in time with the magic that buzzed in the air. His every breath felt shallow, his body vibrating with the tension of what lay ahead. Beyond that swirling, pulsing vortex was Fira, lost, pulled into a place beyond their world—and it was all his fault.

The hum in Arlen’s throat, a reflex he’d clung to for years, was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. It buzzed softly against the roar of the storm, a lifeline of focus amid the chaos. But even that comfort felt thin now, worn by fear and doubt.