Chapter Seventeen: Riftborn and Reckless

The northern wastes stretched endlessly ahead—a land broken by Riftquakes and warped by time. Where forests once stood, jagged black spires now pierced the sky. Rivers flowed in reverse. Trees whispered names not their own.

And in the middle of it all, trudging through sand that shimmered with memory, walked five fools and a sentient harp.

"Could this get any weirder?" Kael grumbled, swatting a mosquito the size of a pigeon.

"Don't tempt the Rift," Elara said without looking back.

A howl echoed in the distance—high, shrill, and unnatural.

"Too late," Nuel muttered.

They camped at the edge of a collapsed ridge that night, setting up near the ruins of an old relay tower. Corin constructed a ward ring with Rift-dampening shards while Elara set the perimeter with tripwires that exploded into blinding blue light.

"I'll take first watch," Nuel offered, already scanning the ridge.

Nyra surprised him by settling beside him. "I'll join you. Just in case anything tries to bite your face off."

He smiled. "I appreciate your concern for my face."

"It's growing on me," she said casually.

He blinked. "My face?"

"Your whole... thing," she said, brushing her hair back and avoiding eye contact. "You've changed."

"Into what?"

"You're less annoying now."

Nuel raised an eyebrow. "You flirt weird."

Nyra snorted, but didn't deny it. The air between them held a new energy—quiet, tentative, and fragile as glass.

The peace shattered just after midnight.

The first sign was the sudden stillness. No wind. No sounds. Even the insects fell silent.

Then the ground cracked.

Figures emerged from the earth—bipedal, humanoid, but all wrong. Their skin shimmered with Riftlight. No eyes. Just slits that glowed blue-white. Weapons formed from the dust in their hands—jagged blades of hardened sound and regret.

"WRAITH-WALKERS!" Elara shouted, leaping up.

The camp exploded into motion.

Kael hurled fireballs like grenades, but they passed through the creatures harmlessly. "They're phasing!"

Lysander began playing, his harp thrumming with discordant notes. One of the Wraith-Walkers shrieked and recoiled.

"They're weak to echo resonance," Lysander called.

Nuel stood his ground, heart hammering. One of the creatures lunged.

This time, he didn't hesitate.

The moment it neared, his right hand pulsed—silver veins flaring along his forearm. The bracelet burned with light, and a blade erupted from his palm, made of pure refracted Rift-energy.

He slashed.

The creature split clean in two, vanishing in a burst of fractured light.

"I have a sword," he said, blinking.

"A good one!" Kael shouted.

Corin charged, fists crackling with green lightning. "Focus their rhythm! They sync when they strike!"

They fought as a unit—Nuel slashing and ducking, Elara marking targets with concussive bolts, Kael blasting phase-disrupting fire, and Nyra flitting through the battlefield with twin crescent daggers that shimmered like glass.

At one point, Nuel caught her mid-spin and launched her into a group of enemies. She twisted midair and cut three down before landing with a grin.

"You throw well."

"Didn't want to waste momentum," he called back.

"You're getting cocky."

"Is it working?"

She smirked. "Maybe."

The last Wraith-Walker tried to flee, but Lysander's harp sang a piercing note. The creature screamed and unraveled like smoke.

Silence returned.

Later, after patching up wounds and resetting defenses, they gathered around the fire again.

Elara studied the remains—shards of translucent bone and traces of Rift-metal. "Wraith-Walkers aren't natural spawn. They're built. Summoned."

"By whom?" Kael asked.

"Elara," Corin said. "Tell them."

She hesitated, then opened her wristband interface. A static image flickered to life.

It showed a woman. Pale. White hair. Cloaked in Rift-silk. Eyes black as voids.

"This is Aevira."

"Creepy name," Kael muttered.

"She's not human," Elara said. "Or wasn't. She used to be part of Isla's team. A prodigy in Rift-extraction. But something happened. She vanished before the First Fracture ended."

Corin took over. "We believe she was consumed. Or reborn. Now she serves something beyond the veil. And she's summoning the Echo Lords' scouts."

Nuel felt a chill creep up his spine.

"She's targeting survivors," Elara said. "Testing them."

Nyra leaned against her pack. "And we passed."

"For now," Lysander added. "But she knows we're coming."

The next day, they discovered the ruins of an underground facility beneath a shattered hill. The entrance was hidden behind a stone crest marked with Isla's symbol—a stylized flame trapped in a sphere.

Inside, they found a vault of prototype gear—much of it damaged—but enough survived to be useful.

"Armory jackpot," Kael said, eyes gleaming.

Nuel picked up a gauntlet fitted with circular runes. It latched to his wrist and interfaced with the bracelet instantly.

The interface flickered.

Protocol: Ember-Core Linked

Status: Partial Rift-Sync Enabled

"Looks like I just leveled up."

Elara handed him a small crystal. "Slot this. It'll stabilize your next phase attack."

Nyra selected twin blades that extended into short sabers. "Mine now."

They emerged from the facility stronger, armed, and a little more confident.

But as they reached the next ridge, a strange figure stood waiting—cloak billowing, face hidden beneath a cracked helm of mirrored glass.

He didn't speak. Just drew a jagged spear and pointed at Nuel.

"What's this guy's deal?" Kael asked.

The figure threw a silver coin toward them.

It landed at Nuel's feet—engraved with a flame, a sword, and a spiral.

"He's challenging me."

Nyra stepped forward. "Then he gets all of us."

"No," Nuel said. "This one's mine."

She stared at him.

"You trust me?" he asked.

Nyra exhaled. "More than I should."

He smiled.

Then stepped forward, weapon pulsing, power rising.

The wind howled as spear met blade—and the next chapter began in fire and fury.