Ash walked slowly across the platform built in the void, each step echoing lightly against the synthetic surface beneath his boots. The metal of the platform hummed faintly underfoot, a barely-there vibration that crawled up his legs. Nexus tear, he thought. That's what it was.
The mission briefing had been clear enough. Some heroes had gotten stuck during a routine jump through the tear, and someone had to go in and pull them out.
He pulled his jacket tighter and moved forward through the checkpoint gate, showing his ID to a tired-looking officer behind a glass panel. They scanned it with a dull beep and waved him through without much attention.
But then he saw someone who made his chest tighten, a tall figure standing by the inner gate, arms crossed, face turned away like he was trying not to be seen. Ash froze. No. That wasn't— He blinked. No, it was him. Dev.
For a second, Ash considered turning around, pretending he'd forgotten something. Anything to avoid that awkward conversation. Why him? Why now?
He remembered Dev. Mostly from the war. Mostly from the time after. He was there when Richie had fallen. Dev had been one of the people who fought against Richie in the end. One of the many. One of the few who survived. He was a great hero, a strong one. Respected.
Ash sighed, then forced his feet forward. Whatever personal feelings he had, this was a mission. Lives were on the line. You couldn't just back out because your past showed up in front of you with a familiar, quiet face. He took a breath and walked toward him.
"Hey," Ash said, his voice low. "I'm Ash. Looks like we're partners for this one."
Dev turned to look at him. His eyes were dark, but there was no hostility in them. Only recognition. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Dev nodded. He looked down. "I know who you are."
Ash was about to say something—something polite and distant, something professional, but Dev cut in first. "I'm sorry."
Ash blinked. "What?"
Dev took a slow breath, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. "For what happened. For what I did. For what we all did. I know it wasn't personal, but… it was your brother. And that's something that doesn't just fade."
Ash didn't answer right away. He didn't know how to. That apology had come out of nowhere.
"I understand," Ash said at last, his voice softer than before. "You did what you had to. Richie… he wasn't the same person anymore. He made his choices."
There was pain behind those words. A weight he'd carried so long that it didn't even hurt the same way now, it just settled over his shoulders like part of who he was.
Dev nodded slowly. "Still. I thought you should hear it from me."
Ash gave a tired smile. "Thanks. That… means more than you think."
They stood there for a while, not speaking. The tension between them wasn't gone, not completely. But it had shifted. Eased a little. Like the scar between them had been acknowledged, if not healed.
Ash adjusted the strap of his sword; he had brought that sword with him, which made his heart a little heavy. The rift was unstable, an open scar between dimensions.
He was expecting someone official. Some porter, probably grumpy, with a metal container on their back and bad boots. But instead, what arrived was music.
Not loud. Just… a quiet melody. Gentle and patient, like the opening of a memory. A single guitar string being plucked with thought and care, followed by a voice humming lightly, something between joy and loneliness. Ash turned, confused. The melody grew louder. And there, standing with a soft smile and a worn-out guitar across his shoulder, was Kesher.
"What… what are you doing here?" Ash blinked, his voice flat with surprise.
Kesher strummed one last chord, letting it ring out before he dropped his hand to his side. "Well," he said in his usual way, voice smooth like flowing water, "a man must eat, and songs, my friend, though beautiful, cannot fill the belly."
Ash narrowed his eyes. "You… volunteered?"
"No one else claimed the duty," Kesher said with a shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "And what is life if not a great page waiting for bold scribbles? A lost realm, a dying song, and a few lives to save. Seemed like a fine poem to walk into."
Ash exhaled, rubbing his chin. "That makes sense. In your strange way."
Kesher laughed, warm and harmless. "Strange? Ash, I write verses to storms and dine with metaphors. I would be offended if you didn't find me strange."
Dev, who had been silent till now, chuckled. "I gotta admit, I've never met someone like you. Do you always talk like this?"
"Only when I'm awake," Kesher said, bowing dramatically. "And sometimes when I dream."
Ash glanced between the two of them and shook his head. He wasn't sure if this was going to make the mission easier or just more annoying. Still, he found himself strangely… okay with Kesher being here. At least it wasn't someone he hated.
The three of them were given the go, and without another word, they approached the rift.
Ash stepped forward first, then Dev, and finally Kesher, who paused for just a moment, letting his fingers brush against the edge of the portal. "Here's to the brave, the mad, and the beautifully doomed," he whispered, and then walked through.
On the other side, silence welcomed them. Ash felt it first in his stomach. A wrongness. He looked back at the rift, only to find it… different. No longer calm. It buzzed, convulsed, the blue light cracking into violet and black. The air around them hissed.
Dev was already scanning the horizon, his hand near his sword. "This… this is bad."
Ash's eyes darted across the landscape. The ground was uneven, with shapes that didn't make sense, trees that bent sideways into the sky. The clouds above weren't moving, but they kept changing shape, open mouths, teeth, eyes.
Kesher stood still, his eyes wide, his voice suddenly low and reverent. "Ahh…" he whispered, as if to himself. "A realm built on death wearing false masks of sanity."
Ash froze. "Wait. You know where we are?"
Dev turned, nodding grimly. "The realm of Creatures," he said.