Chapter 30: The Whisper in the Void
A Presence Unseen
Jorath's mind was adrift—a chaotic swirl of thoughts, suspicions, and the lingering echoes of something unnatural.
The Forgotten One had left.
But its presence hadn't.
Even as the group moved, an unshakable feeling clung to the air. A weight that pressed against their very existence, whispering truths that couldn't be spoken.
Thalos walked ahead, silent as ever, but Jorath could see it.
The tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers occasionally twitched. Even he felt it.
Jorath gritted his teeth. Damn it.
He wasn't a fool. Whatever had happened back there—whatever the hell Thalos knew—it wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
He glanced at Eryndra.
Her violet eyes flicked toward him, searching. He could tell she felt it too.
Vauron, usually the one to joke, was unnervingly quiet. His fingers tapped against the hilt of his weapon, an unconscious habit when he was deep in thought.
They all knew.
Something had shifted.
And the world would never be the same.
---
The Eternal Dominion – Fractured Council
The gods did not breathe. They did not age.
But in this moment—they felt fear.
Lysara's silver eyes glowed like twin moons, her lips pressed into a thin line. "The name was spoken."
Sovaren's golden gaze remained locked upon the shifting expanse of the celestial plane.
"Yes."
A single word. A single confirmation that sent waves through the chamber.
Callis Veradin, the Lord of Wisdom, exhaled slowly. "It should not be possible. The Veil was absolute."
"Was," Sovaren repeated.
His fingers curled. A silent gesture, but one that sent power rippling through the air.
"If the Veil is breaking—" Lysara began, but Sovaren cut her off.
"—then the worst is yet to come."
The gods fell into silence.
For the first time in eternity, the Eternal Dominion was not in control.
---
A Rift Unfolds
The night sky above them rippled.
Jorath felt it before he saw it.
A pulling sensation in his chest. A twisting of reality itself.
He snapped his gaze upward—
And the stars flickered.
Not like normal stars. Not like distant lights wavering in the wind.
They moved.
Shifting, contorting—watching.
A shiver crawled down Jorath's spine. "What the hell is that?"
Eryndra's grip on her blade tightened. "…Something's coming."
Vauron cursed under his breath. "No. Something's already here."
And then—
The sky tore open.
A rift, vast and gaping, like the maw of something ancient and endless.
From within, a whisper spilled forth.
Not words. Not sound.
Something deeper.
Something that should not be.
Jorath's vision blurred. His head pounded.
It was inside him. Inside all of them.
Then—Thalos moved.
Faster than thought, faster than breath—his hand shot up.
A sigil burned in the air, radiating golden light—blinding, furious, absolute.
The whisper recoiled.
The rift shuddered.
For a fraction of a second, the stars screamed.
And then—silence.
The rift snapped shut.
The stars returned to their places.
The air stilled.
But nothing felt right.
Nothing at all.
---
The Aftermath
Jorath gasped for breath, knees weak, hands trembling.
Eryndra looked just as shaken.
Vauron wiped sweat from his brow, muttering a curse.
But Thalos…
Thalos stood unmoving.
His golden eyes fixed on the sky, unreadable. Calculating.
Finally, he spoke.
"This world is no longer safe."
Jorath swallowed, throat dry. "What the hell was that?"
Thalos didn't answer right away.
Then—softly, barely above a whisper—he said:
"A warning."
A chill ran through Jorath's veins.
A warning.
From what?
Or worse—from who?