The Rift[Becoming]

The fire crackled softly, its light casting flickering shadows on the faces around it. Tension still lingered from Valron's departure, like smoke that clung to the lungs. The group sat in silence—no one dared to speak, each lost in their own thoughts.

The campfire had dimmed to a flickering hush, casting long shadows on the trees around them. Crickets chirped faintly in the underbrush, and a gentle wind rustled the leaves—but the clearing felt hollow.

Asteria sat alone, his back to the fire, shoulders still tense as if bracing for a blow that never came.

Mira approached slowly, then lowered herself beside him. For a while, she didn't speak.

Then, softly:

> "He chose to leave."

Asteria didn't look at her. His hands rested on his knees, still and open.

> "He didn't choose," he said after a moment. "Something changed him."

Mira glanced toward the trees where Valron had disappeared, her brows furrowed with worry.

> "You think it happened… down in the dungeon?"

> "It had to be," Asteria murmured. "He wouldn't… he wouldn't turn like that on his own. Not Valron."

Cain spoke up from where he leaned against a tree, arms crossed. "It's more than a grudge. Something's burrowed into him. I saw his aura during the fight—it was twisted. Not corrupted. Just… guided."

Tarn stirred at the edge of the fire. "That blow he nearly landed on you," he said quietly, "wasn't out of anger. It was meant to break you."

A beat passed in silence.

> "He's not the same," Seri said softly. "But neither are we."

Asteria turned toward the fire now, its dim light flickering in his eyes.

> "He always stood beside me," he said, voice low. "Even when no one else would. He took the blame for things I caused. He shielded me from people's hate when I couldn't even protect myself."

> "I owe him more than silence."

Mira looked at him, concern laced with quiet affection.

> "What are you saying?"

Asteria turned to her. Calm. Certain.

> "I'm going after him."

Everyone fell quiet.

> "We're so close to the palace," Seri said. "We don't have time to lose the trail—"

"I know," Asteria interrupted gently. "But if we go without him, we'll lose more than a fighter. We'll lose a brother."

> "Go without me," Asteria continued. "But I won't leave him behind. Not like this. If there's still a part of him that remembers who he is… then I have to try."

Tarn stood, slowly dusting off his palms.

> "Then you're not going alone. We find him. Together."

"

Cain gave a small grunt. "Reckless," he muttered. "But loyal."

Seri sighed, but nodded.

> "We'll delay the trip to the sanctum. But not for long."

Mira touched Asteria's arm gently.

> "Are you sure you can bring him back?"

Asteria's eyes lingered on the dark beyond the trees.

> "I don't know," he whispered. "But I have to try."

Mira now stood and touched Asteria's arm. "We'll rest tonight. At dawn, we track him."

And somewhere far ahead in the shadowed woods…

Valron walked alone.

But the darkness walked with him.

---

That Night…

The forest was quiet—eerily so.

Valron slept near a jagged ravine deep in the mountain woods, where shadows gathered thicker than mist. His breaths were shallow, his brow damp with sweat. His fingers twitched in his sleep.

Then—

A whisper.

Not of wind, not of trees.

But of something older.

"Valron…"

He stirred.

"You were never meant to serve."

A dark void opened behind his mind—a vast emptiness stretching beyond the stars.

"You were born to reign."

He stood now—not in the forest, but in the black space of a dream. Endless, silent, except for a throne floating in the distance—a throne of black stone and twisting silver veins that pulsed with eerie life.

Before it, a shape… cloaked in smoke and ancient flame.

Valron stared.

"Who… are you?"

"Your patron. Your truth."

"The Primordials chose their 'Prime' in error. You… are my disciple."

Valron's chest rose and fell, his voice trembling. "Asteria is the Prime. He—"

"A mistake. He was chosen by light. You, however… you belong to the deeper current beneath existence. The echo between life and power."

The throne pulsed.

"You feel it already, don't you? The anger. The betrayal. The hunger."

Valron's fists clenched. His heart thundered in his ears.

"Let go of their lies. Of their pity. You were not made to stand behind another's fire. You were made to burn brighter… darker."

The darkness swirled deeper now—denser, alive.

Valron stood in the vast dream-void, facing the floating throne of black stone, its roots coiling like a serpent through the unseen starscape. Shadows whispered his name like a forgotten hymn.

"Valron…"

"Chosen not by the light, but by what came before it."

The figure before the throne grew more defined—taller than any man, cloaked in formless flame and shadow, no face visible, only a voice that shook the soul.

Valron's throat tightened. "What… do you want from me?"

The being tilted its head—not cruelly, but like a teacher with endless patience.

"What I want is irrelevant. What you want… is truth. Power. Freedom."

A pause. Then—

"But it cannot be given. Not yet. Not until you awaken me."

Valron blinked. "How?"

"I lie in slumber beneath the throne. Buried in chains older than your world. Sealed by the hands of the first light. The Prime of Before."

The voice now echoed in layers—deep, ancient, terrible.

"Awaken me. Free me. And in return, I will give you power beyond anything any Prime, past or present, has ever wielded."

The throne pulsed.

A crack formed in its base—thin, glowing violet. Something stirred beneath it.

"Go to the hidden passage beneath the castle. The path forgotten by time. Find the door marked by seven seals."

"Break the chains."

"Awaken me."

"And you will not only rival the Prime…"

"…you will replace him."

Valron's hands trembled. But not with fear.

With purpose.

Resolve.

The voice softened now—almost a whisper.

"This is your legacy, Valron. Not as the forgotten friend. Not as the shadow of another's rise…"

"But as the harbinger of a new age."

Then silence.

The void collapsed.

---

Valron shot up from the forest floor, breath ragged, heart hammering.

But his path was clear now.

He didn't need to return to the others.

He didn't need their understanding.

He had a mission.

He would awaken him—the being beneath the throne.

And when he did…

The world would change.

Forever.

His chest heaved. His skin was cold.

The stars above the canopy felt… different now.

He looked back at the distant glow of the campfire he had left behind.

Then toward the horizon—where the palace loomed like a specter over the mountains.

His choice had been made.

And in his palm, a faint symbol now glowed—dark red and twisted like a branch of fire turned inward.

He clenched his fist.

And began walking.

Not back.

But down.

Toward the hidden passage beneath the throne.

---

The forest thickened near the cliffs of Dareth's Spine. Mist curled low around the roots, and the trees stood close—like ancient judges watching silently from the dark.

Asteria stepped over a fallen log, boots crunching on brittle leaves. Behind him, Mira and Tarn followed with caution, their breaths steady but quiet.

Cain was the first to pause.

> "There," he whispered, eyes narrowing.

Just ahead, through a thin veil of fog, a figure stood at the edge of a crumbling stone ledge—his back to them, cloak fluttering slightly in the wind.

Valron.

Alone.

Asteria took a step forward, but Cain held him back for a heartbeat.

> "Let me speak," Asteria said quietly.

No one argued.

He approached slowly.

> "Valron," he called.

The figure didn't turn.

> "I didn't come to stop you," Asteria continued, voice calm. "I came because I remember the boy who never let me walk into the storm alone."

Still… no reply.

Then—Valron spoke, voice low.

> "You shouldn't have followed me."

> "I know," Asteria said. "But I did."

Then—

A blur.

Wind sliced past.

Before any of them could react, a cold edge touched Asteria's throat.

A knife.

Valron.

He stood behind Asteria, faster than any of them had ever seen him move. His breath was calm. Controlled.

Deadly.

> "I warned you," he said softly. "Next time… I won't hesitate."

No one dared move.

Asteria stood still, eyes forward. "Valron—"

> "No more speeches," Valron cut in. "You chose your side. Now let me walk mine."

His hand tensed—

Then released.

The knife vanished into his cloak as quickly as it had appeared.

> "Stay out of my way," he whispered, stepping back into the mist.

In seconds, he was gone.

Only the ghost of his presence remained—and a whisper of something darker rising behind him.

Asteria exhaled slowly, the mark of steel still cold against his throat.

> "He's changed," Tarn muttered.

>"No," Asteria said, eyes locked on the shadows.

"That wasn't Valron."

He stepped forward.

"That was what he's becoming."

---