Dawn broke blood-red.
The sky over the Guild was split by Riftfire clouds, casting long shadows across the battlements. Ethan stood at the loading platform as the skimmer touched down—a reinforced hovercraft, modified for Rift exposure, its hull etched with warding runes and impact shields.
Kael climbed into the cockpit, flicking switches with calm precision. "Engines stable. Flux filters ready. Let's hope they hold when we hit the red zone."
Zeila checked her blades, sliding Voidsteel daggers into wrist sheaths. "Hope isn't a strategy."
Ethan boarded last, carrying only his blade, the journal, and the ring. He felt lighter somehow—like the closer they got to the Crimson Reach, the more the Rift inside him braced for what was to come.
As the skimmer lifted off, the Guild compound grew small beneath them. Ethan watched it shrink with a strange detachment.
"Think they'll hold the line without us?" Kael asked.
Ethan didn't look away. "They have to."
---
By midday, the terrain had changed.
The lush hills beyond the Hollow gave way to a barren expanse—charred, cracked, and scorched black. Lightning arced silently across the sky even though there were no clouds. The Rift here wasn't just present—it was dominant.
Kael muttered as the skimmer shook violently. "We're in the Reach now. Gravity's off. Sensors are blind."
Ethan nodded. "That means we're close."
They descended into what remained of the mining colony. Ruins lay scattered like bones—collapsed structures, rusted machines, corpses long since turned to ash. But etched on the walls and ground were marks. Glyphs. Some matching the ring. Others older.
Ethan felt his Beastmark pulse.
"Something's buried here," he whispered.
Zeila crouched by one of the glyphs. "These weren't human-made. Not even pre-Surge tech. This is... primal Rift language."
Kael scanned the ruins. "I've got a heat signature. Underground. Faint, but consistent. Like a heartbeat."
Ethan turned to him sharply. "Where?"
Kael pointed to a half-buried lift at the center of the colony. "There. But if we go down, we might not come back up."
"Still want to turn back?" Zeila asked.
Kael grinned darkly. "Are you kidding? This is the most alive I've felt in months."
They descended through the rusted lift, silence pressing in like weight. As the last of the light faded, Ethan's mark glowed brighter, casting blue-gold light along the tunnel walls.
Then they saw it.
A chamber, deep beneath the earth—circular, carved from black stone, glowing faintly with Rift energy. In the center, a pedestal. Upon it: a second shard.
It looked like a coiled fang made of crystal and bone, humming with dormant power.
Ethan stepped forward—but the moment he touched it, the chamber shuddered.
The Rift responded.
Walls peeled open like petals, revealing mural after mural—ancient scenes: a figure wreathed in fire, standing against a host of Bonebound. A Rift collapsing inward. And at the center of it all... a black sun.
Zeila's voice was tight. "This is a tomb."
"No," Ethan said, eyes wide. "It's a warning."
The second he lifted the shard, Riftlight exploded upward.
A shockwave burst from the chamber. The skimmer above was tossed sideways, and Kael barely held on as the entire structure trembled.
And in the silence that followed...
...a voice echoed from the stone itself.
Two seals reclaimed. One remains. The Flameborn walks the path. But beware... when the final seal breaks—
—so does the Heart.
Zeila turned to Ethan slowly. "You heard that too?"
He nodded, shard clutched tightly in his hand. "We're not just collecting pieces."
"We're unsealing something," Kael said grimly.
From above, the sound of shifting earth echoed through the shaft.
Then something howled—deep, monstrous, and hungry.
Ethan's mark flared.
"They know we're here."
And in the crimson-lit dark, the Reach began to wake.