The Ember That Devours the Rift
---5 June 2021 — 2:30 AM
Jungle Clearing near the Broken Shrine
The moon was high tonight — bone-white, ringed by a halo of thin clouds that looked like veins under a scarred sky.
Aadiv stood barefoot in the clearing — roots pressed against his soles, the cut on his forearm bound with a strip of cloth blackened by ash.
The chain rune above his ribs pulsed steady — gold lines threading like a brand across the sweat-slick skin of his chest.
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He could feel it: the rift.
A raw wound in the jungle floor — a slit no wider than a child's smile, but deep enough that shadows bled out of it in slow, hungry curls.
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> Aadiv (low, half to himself, half to the roots around him):
"No more illusions.
No more begging ghosts.
Tonight — I devour you."
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The Voice rumbled — not mocking, not kind. Just that impossible weight that made his ribs ache.
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> Inner Voice (deep, fatherly thunder):
"Devour the rift — or be devoured by it.
Bind it — or drown in your own wound."
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He knelt by the tear — the dirt soft, damp from yesterday's rain.
Black mist hissed up from the split, tiny illusions flickering in its curls — predator's eyes, his sister's laugh, his father's smile smeared in blood.
Aadiv didn't blink.
He pressed his left palm to the dirt — his right hovering over the rift's edge.
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> Aadiv (breath steady, teeth bared):
"Come on then. Feed me."
The ember behind his ribs flared — gold veins snaking up his throat, licking the roots overhead with a soft, ghostly glow.
The rift's shadows surged — a cold bite in his fingertips, then his wrist, then burning up his veins like ice swallowing fire.
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Aadiv's eyes rolled back.
The illusions bit him from inside — false voices coiling behind his skull:
"Stay with us…"
"Sleep…"
"Let the wound feed on your flame — you don't have to fight."
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The chain rune clamped tight — a golden link pressing into his ribs, hot enough to blister.
The ember flickered — wavered — then burned brighter, lancing gold into the rift's black mouth.
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> Inner Voice (close, growling):
"Good. Do not bind it too soon.
Let it taste you — then devour it whole."
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Blood slipped down his arm — the rift drank it, illusions rippling in and out of the mist.
He saw a vision: the shrine's Eclipse Door cracked wider, the Great Kurokagetsu waiting in roots deep below, its edge glinting like an eye that never blinked.
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Aadiv clenched his teeth — flame and void fought like dogs in his veins.
A hiss burst from his lips — half scream, half laugh.
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> Aadiv (voice ragged, but steady):
"I am the chain.
I am the mouth.
I am the flame that swallows you."
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The rift shrieked — shadows splintering like bone under molten gold.
The ember devoured each bite — illusions cracking to ash inside his chest.
His veins blazed white-hot for a heartbeat — enough to make the roots around him hiss and curl from the heat.
He pressed his palm flat to the rift — the golden veins flaring once, sealing the tear like molten iron poured into a wound.
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When it was done, Aadiv slumped forward — palms sinking into damp soil, breath rattling.
Sweat dripped off his chin — sizzling where it hit the last faint glow of the sealed scar in the ground.
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> Inner Voice (low, amused, proud):
"The wound tastes you now.
The chain holds — for tonight."
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Aadiv dragged himself upright — mud smearing his chest, the chain rune glowing faint, one link tighter.
His eyes flickered gold — a grin splitting his raw lips.
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> Aadiv (to the roots, the shrine, the Eclipse Chamber's mouth):
"Next time — I'll swallow you whole."
Far below, the Eclipse Chamber pulsed once — runes flickering like a hundred closed eyes waiting to open wide when the boy knocks.
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