"It wasn't power. It was a deal. One that bled out everything else."
No gate opened. No dramatic drop. No whispered voice in the dark.
Just a sudden shift — like Ren blinked, and the world remembered something he shouldn't.
He was standing in a canyon of stone and ash. Quiet. Beautiful in a way that made his chest feel hollow. The sky above was silver-grey, torn by streaks of fading magic.
And ahead of him?
Kaelreth.
Younger. Still human.
Still whole.
He stood at the edge of a fissure that pulsed like a wound.
Aether leaked upward from it in thin, impossible strands — the kind of raw energy Ren had only ever seen inside the Aetherium Core, and only after it broke.
Kael didn't speak. He was holding something.
A shard of twisted crystal.
Alive. Hungry. Breathing in thoughts Ren hadn't even had yet.
The moment stretched.
Then a voice, smooth and sharp like a blade dragged through your future:
UNKNOWN (from behind):
"Make your choice, Kaelreth. This deal doesn't wait."
Ren turned. But there was no one to see.
Just presence. Cold. Infinite. Familiar in the worst way.
Kaelreth's voice was quiet.
KAELRETH:
"If I take this, I become the tether. The lock. The sacrifice."
UNKNOWN:
"And the guardian. The override. The only one who can carry this code forward."
Kael looked down at the shard.
It pulsed.
And then he said something Ren would never forget.
KAELRETH:
"Let my sister forget me."
The crystal entered his chest like smoke — no wound, no scream. Just light.
The ground cracked.
The sky split.
Kaelreth's eyes burned.
Ren stumbled back. The world twisted.
Not in pain — in recognition.
He wasn't watching a memory.
He was watching a seed being planted.
From behind him, someone stepped into the light.
VA'THERAN (calmly):
"He didn't want power. He wanted containment."
REN:
"This was when he became Riftborn."
VA'THERAN:
"No. This was when he became the code itself."
"The Collapse started here — because the code fought back."
Ren stared at the sky.
REN:
"What's the point of showing me this?"
VA'THERAN:
"Because soon, the code will need a new host."
"And if you don't find one—"
TIME (suddenly appearing with a pop and a wink):
"—the whole system folds into a flaming asshole."
SPACE (smirking):
"Very poetic, Time. He means Trial Five is a retrieval key."
FROST (quiet, watching the sky):
"It won't be Ren. It can't be him."
BLAZE:
"He's unstable. Still choosing between being human or being myth."
GRAVITY (flat):
"He's a bridge. Not a lock."
The canyon faded. The light dimmed. Ren found himself standing in a blank room.
No sword. No voices. Just the faint echo of Kaelreth's final choice.
The trial wasn't a test.
It was a warning.
And a question.
Who gets the code next?