Chapter 12: Secrets in the Dark

A low hum thrums through the stone beneath their feet.

And then, the world cracks. It is not a sound, not even an explosion.

As if a power unseen pulled them. A force that does not belong.

Ahead of them, just beyond the ruined square, the air warps, twisting inward, unraveling at the edges like torn silk. And then, it splits.

Its a wound in reality. Another rift. But it is not like the one Aldia had touched before.

This one is chaos. The tear yawns open with a violent shriek, its edges lined with pulsing golden fractures, raw and furious. And through it, there is Zhyr.

Aldia catches only glimpses, a desert that does not belong here, shifting dunes writhing like something alive, lightning that does not strike but lingers in the sky, waiting.

And the wind, it howls, surging forward, dragging pieces of Noxport into its endless sands.

The first thing to go is the fountain.

The ruined stone in the central square, it is the same one where Aldia had found the dead traveler, it lurches forward, as if gravity itself has changed its mind.

Then the buildings, being pulled into the rift.

The wind grows into a force of its own, clawing at the remains of the city, pulling debris, pulling stone, pulling anything that is not tied to this realm.

Aldia feels the shift in her bones, the rift wants more.

It wants everything.

"Move!" Liora screams, her voice being distant in all this chaos.

Aldia doesn't hesitate. She runs. But the wind is faster, it catches to her.

It does not pull, it twists.

Tearing at her cloak, dragging at her limbs, turning the air into something unsteady, something treacherous.

She stumbles, boots scraping against the uneven cobblestone, and then the ground beneath her vanishes.

She is weightless.

The wind is not just air, it is hands, it is claws, it is something living, something desperate.

The rift wants her.

Aldia reaches out, for anything. And in the moment of desparation, something catches her wrist.

"I've got you!" She brely heras Liora's voice in between the ringing in her ears.

Aldia slams back onto the stone, breath ripped from her lungs.

Liora holds her fast, her grip unyielding, eyes burning silver in the unnatural glow of the rift.

Nyxie is at Liora's feet, fur bristling, ears pinned back.

"You are ridiculous." Nyxie says, being irritated but not surprised.

Aldia sucks in a breath, coughing, fighting against the pull still thrumming in the air.

The rift is widening.

"We need to get out of here. Now." Liora is quick in assessing the damage. She pulls on Aldia's hand.

Aldia nods, pushing herself up. But the rift is not done with them yet.

The golden fractures widen, deepening, and from within the storm, something shifts.

Not sand.

Not wind.

Something moving.

A shadow, long, sinuous, curling like smoke against the desert light.

"Something's coming." Aldia pants, staring into the rift she senses the shifting shadows among the blows of sand.

Liora follows her gaze—and her expression sharpens.

"Of course there is." She mutters, almost to herself.

Nyxie flicks its tail.

"You two need better hobbies." Nyxie grumbles, as if all this is nothing to it, as if its not bothering the craeture.

Aldia forces herself to move, pushing past the weight of exhaustion, past the pull still curling at the edges of her limbs.

Liora, urgently grabs Aldia's arm, "We don't have time to watch. We need to—"

And then, the rift shrieks.

A burst of sand-laden wind slams into them, dragging at their cloaks, at their bodies, trying to tip the balance once more.

And Aldia knows, they are seconds from being pulled in.

They run.

The streets beneath them crack, stone breaking apart as the rift takes more of Noxport.

Buildings twist, their ruined forms vanishing into the pull of the storm.

The air is wrong, shifting between humid decay and burning wind, the scent of two realms colliding into something unnatural.

Aldia's lungs burn.

The rift roars behind them, a starving thing, furious that its prey has fled.

They do not stop.

Not until the wind finally dies.

Not until the air settles once more, thick with the silence of something unfinished.

Not until the rift is gone.

Aldia's legs almost give out.

She braces herself against the nearest wall, chest heaving, sweat beading at her brow despite the cold.

Nyxie shakes itself out, muttering curses under its breath.

Liora stands at the edge of what remains of the square, watching the space where the rift had been.

Her hands are clenched into fists.

She exhales slowly.

"That wasn't random."

Aldia swallows the dryness in her throat.

"Pretty random to me," Aldia looks at her.

"No, someone was watching." Liora answers.

Aldia is panting, still recovering,"You think someone did that?"

Liora's gaze does not move from the space before her.

"I think someone wanted to see who would survive it." She jokes., but she feels it might be true.

Aldia shivers.

Not from the cold.

From the feeling that this was only the beginning.

-----

The city outside is broken, crumbling, hollowed by time and ruin. But as Aldia reaches her hidden entrance, pressing her palm against the worn stone, she feels a shift, a recognition, a breath held in wait.

The lock clicks open with a soft, familiar sound. The magic that protects her home knows her.

Liora steps in after her, and for the first time since they met, she hesitates.

Her gaze sweeps across the space.

Gone is the damp, rotting air of Noxport's streets. Inside, the world is different.

The air is rich with the scent of aged parchment, warm spice, and polished wood. The glow of lanterns flickers off deep crimson drapes, plush armchairs, and an ornate fireplace. Bookshelves line the walls, their spines still intact, untouched by the decay outside.

The place is a stolen dream, impossibly well-kept in a city that is falling apart.

"Well. I wasn't expecting this." Liora tilts her head, smirking.

Aldia shrugs off her cloak, letting it drop onto the velvet chaise.

"What were you expecting?" Aldia says dryly, unamused.

Liora steps forward, running her fingers along the intricate carvings of a mahogany table.

"Something less… lived in." Her voice is unreadable.

Nyxie leaps onto one of the bookshelves, stretching lazily.

"Aldia doesn't do 'ruin.' She has standards." It says smugly.

Aldia rolls her eyes, moving toward a small, locked chest in the corner. This is where she had hidden it. The map.

"I do what I have to."

She kneels, fingers moving over the latch, iron, old but unbroken.

"There are locked chests too," Liora is amused.

"We like to keep the secrets at secret places," Nyxie makes fun. Aldia gives her side eye.

"There ain't no thieves to discover those secrets." Liora states back.

"You never know, someone might be stalking you from the shadows." Aldia retaliates. Liora gives out a laugh.

The parchment is older than it should be. When Aldia unfolds it, the edges feel fragile, as if they've been touched by time in ways paper shouldn't. The ink, however, is still dark—sharp, deliberate, curling into patterns that do not match any known geography.

Liora crouches beside her, her expression less amused now, more focused.

"Let me see."

Aldia doesn't argue. She spreads the map across the wooden floor, smoothing out the creases.

At its center, the name Vyrhan is written in jagged script. The roads do not lead outward as a normal map would, they spiral inward.

Liora mutters, "It's not a location. It's a path."

Aldia frowns. "What do you mean?"

Liora's fingers trace one of the lines, following the spiraling ink.

"This isn't meant to guide someone to a place. It's meant to lead someone through something."

She exhales slowly.

"It's a rift map." She says grimly.

Aldia stiffens.

Nyxie flicks its tail, eyes narrowing. "That's not good."

Aldia's grip tightens on the parchment.

"Rifts don't follow maps." Her voice is low and weary.

Liora smirks, but it's not a pleased smirk. It's the kind that precedes trouble.

"No. But something wanted this one to." She looks at Aldia.

Aldia stares at the curling lines again, the ink pulsing faintly under the lantern light.

The path leads inward.

And something is waiting at the center.