The Rift’s Hunger

The wind was wrong.

Aric felt it the moment they reached the outskirts of the crater—a stale, unmoving air, thick with something sour and metallic. The last time he had stood here, it had been nothing but a scar in the land, a broken place of stone and ash. But now, it was changing.

The first sign was the smell.

It wasn't the decay of dead wolves, nor the dampness of old soil. It was something sharper, fouler—like rotting wood soaked in bile.

The second sign was the silence.

No wind. No birds. No insects. The world around the crater had gone still as if holding its breath.

Aric gripped the hilt of his sword, stepping forward carefully. Beneath his boots, the ground felt softer than before—like something had hollowed out the earth beneath.

Lira was beside him, her bow half-raised, her sharp eyes scanning the twisted trees that curled at the edges of the crater. "I don't like this," she muttered.

"You've been saying that since we got here," Kael said, crouching near a rock formation. His usual playful smirk was absent, replaced by something colder, more alert. His fingers traced the cracks in the stone, and his golden eyes darkened. "This place wasn't like this before."

Aric's throat tightened. "I know."

And then, the third sign.

The clicking sound.

It came from deep within the crater. Soft at first, almost indistinguishable from the whisper of shifting dirt. But then it grew louder—a chittering, grinding noise like stone scraping against stone.

And then, they moved.

----

At first, it was just shadows shifting in the mist.

Then something stepped into view.

It had vaguely human proportions—two arms, two legs, a hunched form. But its body was wrong. Its skin was gray and cracked, pulsing with faint veins of pale blue light. Its limbs were too long, its fingers ending in tapered points that twitched erratically.

And its face—

Or rather, where a face should have been—was nothing but smooth, stretched skin.

Then another one emerged.

And another.

And another.

They didn't move like animals. They didn't breathe.

They just watched.

A low hum filled the air, vibrating against Aric's skull, sinking into his bones like a weight pressing him into the earth.

"They're not attacking," Lira whispered, her voice tight.

"Not yet," Kael muttered.

Aric's grip on his sword tightened. The creatures were staring at him. Not at Lira. Not at Kael. Just him.

Then, the closest one twitched.

And it lunged.

Aric barely reacted in time. Steel flashed in the dim light, meeting flesh—except it wasn't flesh at all.

It was cold.

Like striking a corpse that had been left in the winter for too long.

The creature jerked violently, but it didn't bleed. Instead, its wound sealed instantly, the flesh knitting together as if nothing had happened.

Lira swore, losing an arrow straight through its skull. The force of the impact snapped its head back—but then it simply tilted its head forward again.

Unharmed.

Kael let out a sharp breath. "Fuck this. We need to go."

Aric hated it. Hated turning away from a fight. But this wasn't a fight. This was something worse.

They moved. Fast.

And yet, even as they retreated, the creatures did not follow.

They just watched.

And Aric could feel it—as if they were memorizing his face.

----

By the time they reached the village, the sky had turned an eerie shade of gray, the morning light muted by a veil of thin mist. The air still felt wrong.

Kael was the first to speak. "Your power," he said, voice flat. "It's the same as theirs."

Aric turned sharply. "What the hell does that mean?"

Kael exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I've seen this before. A long time ago. People who wielded that kind of energy. People who could kill without touching, who could shape the world around them without meaning to." He met Aric's gaze. "They're gone now."

Aric felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Gone?"

Kael nodded. "They vanished. Every single one of them. And if those things came from the rift…" His voice dropped lower. "Then maybe you did too."

Aric's breath caught.

Because deep down, he had started wondering the same thing.

----

Before Aric could even process Kael's words, a new sound shattered the uneasy quiet.

The thunder of hooves.

A group of armored riders approached from the north, their banners marked with Lord Vallis's sigil.

Lira swore. "Fucking hell. Not now."

The lead rider—a grizzled man with sharp gray eyes—reined in his horse near the village square. His armor was well-maintained but bore the scars of past battles. His presence commanded attention.

"By order of Lord Vallis," he announced, "we are here to investigate the disturbances in this land. Reports of unnatural creatures, rising death counts, and—" His gaze settled on Aric. "—a man with powers that should not exist."

A heavy silence fell over the village.

Garrick stiffened beside the blacksmith's forge, his grip tightening on his spear. Some of the villagers looked to Aric, unsure whether to defend him or distance themselves.

Kael muttered, "Well. That didn't take long."

The soldier's voice remained cold. "You will submit to questioning. Immediately."

Aric held his ground, his expression calm—but his mind raced.

This wasn't just a scouting party. This was a test. Vallis wanted to see if Eldermere would hand him over without a fight.

If Aric submitted now, it would not end here.

He could feel Lira watching him, waiting. Kael, unreadable as always, but ready.

The silence stretched.

Then, slowly—Aric smiled.

"You want answers?" he said. "Then let's talk."

The tension snapped like a drawn bowstring. The soldier scowled but gestured for his men to dismount.

Lira let out a slow breath. "Well. That's one way to handle it."

Kael smirked. "You handled that well. Almost as if you were a king."

Aric didn't answer.

Because as he turned toward the village hall, he realized something.

Not everyone resented the idea.

Some of the villagers were watching him differently now.

Not just as a fighter.

Not just as a survivor.

But as a leader.

And that was a dangerous thought.