Chapter 51: The Edge of Despair

The Last Night Before the Storm

The night was heavy with an oppressive stillness. The air was thick with the scent of rain that never fell, the kind of humid weight that made everything feel just on the edge of something. Eryndra sat on the edge of a makeshift campfire, her eyes staring into the swirling flames. The others had settled in their own corners of the camp, the quiet hum of their conversations barely audible in the distance. But here, on the edge of the camp, it was as though the world had been swallowed whole.

Thalos sat beside her, his arm brushing against hers as if he needed the proximity to remind himself that she was still there, still real. His gaze, however, was distant, fixed on the horizon. The sky stretched wide above them, the first hints of twilight's final breath turning everything in a strange, eerie shade of grey. Even with everything they had fought for, it still felt like the war was closing in on them, tightening its grip until they couldn't breathe.

Eryndra could feel the pull of the Rift now more than ever. It was in Thalos's eyes—dark, haunted eyes that had seen far too much. The Abyss was creeping in, its tendrils slowly but surely pulling at his soul, and she couldn't ignore the truth that had settled in her heart.

He was slipping.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, watching as he clenched his fists. She knew he was trying to suppress it—trying to fight the darkness that lurked just beneath the surface. It had always been there, always threatened to overwhelm him. The Abyss was a relentless force, and it would take everything they had to stand against it.

"You're quiet tonight," she said softly, her voice cutting through the stillness.

Thalos didn't turn to look at her right away. Instead, he stared at the darkening sky, his jaw tightening. "I'm thinking about tomorrow," he said, his tone flat, distant. "The battle. The Rift. What's coming."

Eryndra watched him carefully. She knew that it wasn't just the battle that weighed on his mind. It was the inevitable pull of the Rift. She could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, the way his hands shook ever so slightly. The internal fight had taken a toll on him, more than he was willing to admit.

"We don't have to face this alone," she whispered, her hand reaching out to gently cover his. "I'm here, Thalos. I'll always be here."

He finally turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. The look made her heart ache. She had always known that he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it wasn't just his burden to bear.

"I don't want to drag you into this," Thalos said, his voice tight, though it trembled with an emotion he couldn't hide. "I don't want you to see me… change."

Eryndra's breath caught in her throat. She had never seen him so vulnerable. There was something raw, something so painfully human in the way he spoke. And in that moment, she understood the depth of his fear. It wasn't just the battle with the Abyss. It was the fear that one day, he would lose himself completely.

"You won't lose me," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "No matter what happens, I'm staying by your side. I always will be."

Thalos looked away, his gaze flickering toward the campfire as if he couldn't bear to meet her eyes. "I'm not so sure anymore."

A chill ran through her at the admission. Eryndra's heart stilled, her grip tightening around his hand. "Don't say that."

But he did. And the weight of his words settled heavily between them. They were on the brink of something far bigger than either of them could fully grasp, and she was terrified. Terrified that the man she loved was slipping away, piece by piece.

Before she could say anything more, a sudden explosion of light tore through the camp, accompanied by a deafening roar that rattled the very ground beneath them. The fire sputtered and died, casting the camp into darkness.

"Get to the gates!" Lira's voice rang out, full of authority and urgency.

Eryndra's heart skipped a beat. She rose immediately, pulling Thalos with her, her body already on high alert. The camp was in chaos. Figures scrambled in every direction, warriors shouting commands, hastily gathering weapons. But the sound that filled the air—the sheer, unnatural shriek—made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"The Rift's forces are here," Thalos said, his voice low, and something in it made Eryndra's chest tighten.

They didn't have time to think. Eryndra and Thalos ran toward the front of the camp, where Lira and Commander Sigrun were already preparing the soldiers.

"We're under attack!" Lira barked, her face hard as iron. "Hold the line! Don't let them breach the gates!"

Eryndra's pulse raced as she unsheathed her sword, feeling the familiar weight in her grip. Beside her, Thalos's golden eyes flared with an intensity she hadn't seen in weeks. He was ready. The Rift might have been tugging at him, but in this moment, he was fully present. He was a leader again, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would fight to the death.

The first wave hit within moments, shadows spilling from the edges of the camp as Abyssal creatures—monstrous, twisted abominations—emerged from the dark, their eyes glowing with an unholy fire.

"We need to get to the heart of the fight," Sigrun shouted, cutting through the chaos. "We're pushing them back, but we can't let them overwhelm us. Stick together."

Thalos nodded, his jaw clenched as he moved forward, pushing past Eryndra with a determined look. He didn't wait for her to follow. He never did. But in that moment, she knew—he wouldn't leave her behind. Not again.

She sprinted after him, her heart pounding, the storm of battle closing in on them. As they reached the front lines, Eryndra's mind was laser-focused. She wasn't just fighting for survival; she was fighting for him, for them. And every swing of her blade was a prayer that the Abyss wouldn't claim Thalos.

But the real terror was coming. The Rift was no longer just a distant threat—it was here, and it was coming for them all.

---

The Rift's True Face

The battle raged on for hours, but it was clear that the Rift's forces were more organized than expected. They didn't fight like mere beasts; they moved with purpose, a coordinated assault that seemed to anticipate every move the Resistance made.

Thalos fought with the ferocity of a beast, his sword cleaving through the enemies around him. But every strike, every blow he delivered, came at a cost. The darkness in his eyes deepened with each passing moment, the Rift's hold on him tightening.

Eryndra could see it—the way his movements faltered ever so slightly, the way his gaze became unfocused for just a moment too long. It was as though he was battling two fronts: the war outside, and the war within himself.

She couldn't ignore it anymore. The fear gnawed at her insides, threatening to break free. Thalos was slipping, and she had no idea how to stop it.

But she had to try. She had to fight for him.

"Thalos!" she shouted, cutting through the chaos as she pushed her way toward him.

He turned to her, his face strained, his eyes wild. "Get back, Eryndra," he growled, his voice barely audible over the clamor of battle. "It's too dangerous."

She shook her head, her sword raised, ready for whatever came next. "I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. The battlefield, the screams, the clashing of metal—everything faded into the background as their eyes locked. And for the briefest instant, Eryndra saw it—the truth, shining in Thalos's gaze.

He was losing the fight.

But they could still win this. Together.