Riven was kneeling on the ground, holding his head with both hands. His mouth was open as if screaming, but no sound was coming out. His eyes were locked on the sky outside the stone window.
The Rift looked like it was expanding. The cracks were widening bit by bit. Eerie sounds filled the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Each crack sent a shiver down Riven's spine. Each sound made his teeth clench.
Light refracted from each ethereal shard of glass, painting the world in many different colors. Sometimes they mixed, creating unfamiliar sights. It was as if the colors were seeping into the world rather than covering it like a soft blanket.
The stone wall in front of him was starting to turn a deep shade of purple. Some chunks of the sturdy wall began to shake and crumble under the unnatural pressure.
Riven slowly lowered his hands, closed his mouth, and pushed himself off the ground—immediately forgetting why he was even doing so in the first place.
The intense pressure pinning his mind started to recede. With each passing moment, Riven felt less pain. Instead, it was slowly being replaced by a warm feeling—like the embrace of a beloved.
Riven walked to the window, his steps unhurried. Calm.
The sky produced even more cracking sounds as the mysterious Rift grew once more. Even more otherworldly glass filled the sky, which in turn changed the colors of the surrounding world again.
Riven walked away from his house, leaving everything behind.
He calmly took another step. As more cracking noises resounded around him, his ears started to bleed—but he didn't even flinch. He was like a puppet, uncaring about the world around him. About himself.
He simply walked forward—closer to the Rift.
The inside of the crack shifted. A deep shadow moved across the other world. For a moment, everything stopped.
Then, as the giant shadow disappeared from view once more, the world unfroze. The buildings that still stood crumbled. Stones turned to dust. The ground cracked, unable to bear the pressure of the other world.
Riven's heart, which had stopped along with the rest of the world, began beating once more. And, as if nothing had happened, he resumed walking.
Riven stepped over the bodies of innocent villagers, having nowhere else to place his feet. Occasionally, he would step on someone. His heavy footsteps—bearing the weight of the otherworld—crushed bones.
The sound made his eyebrows twitch slightly.
But he didn't lose focus.
He just kept walking.
Sometimes he would fall. Each time he did, he simply got up and continued—seemingly with more determination than before. Sometimes he would stop, as the shadow beyond the Rift shifted impatiently.
Riven was slowly getting closer to his destination.
Around him were dozens of others who had managed to survive the initial wave of pressure when the sky split. Each and every one walked in the same direction—mindless husks of their previous selves. Now simply slaves to an otherworldly power.
None of them could change their destiny.
None of them could control what happened to them.
Not even Riven.
There were, however, two men who still stood strong—facing off against beings of the otherworld, saving innocent lives. Unfortunately, neither of them was anywhere close to Riven.
It seemed that this was the end.
Nobody knew what would happen if the people walking toward the crack reached their destination.
Nobody knew what would happen when the Rift opened fully.
In the distance, Riven caught a glimpse of his parents. A single tear formed in his eye. Pulled by gravity, it slid down his expressionless face—leaving behind a wet trace of its existence.
Riven formed a thought. A single, fleeting thought, which disappeared shortly after forming:
'Why?'
It seemed insignificant. What would a single thought change? What could it change?
As Riven neared his destination, he started to feel.
Each step brought him closer to demise—but also closer to clarity. He could almost feel it: his thoughts, his mind. It was somewhere there, buried deep in his consciousness. He just had to dig through it.
The Rift expanded once more.
The shrieking sound was so loud it created a physical wave, pushing several people to the ground. Their ears and eyes were bleeding. Their bodies mangled.
Some had bones sticking out of their limbs. Some walked with both legs broken. Some couldn't walk at all—instead, they crawled.
The influence of the other world intensified, turning the surrounding terrain into something different. Pieces of the ground began to float, revealing hot lava underneath. The pressure was creating heat deep underground—so much heat that the tough rocks started melting.
The air became hard to breathe.
Riven coughed—still walking forward. His body was covered in cuts and bruises. His eyes were bleeding, as were his ears, nose, and mouth.
Riven was getting in touch with his thoughts. He could almost control his body. He was almost there.
He stumbled as one of his feet turned in the wrong direction, almost as if it was defying the rest of his body. After another few steps, he stumbled again—his leg not fully extended before hitting the ground.
Just as he was making progress in taking control of his body, the world stopped.
It was different this time.
Something was wrong.
Time had stopped—but he could still feel it passing by. Somehow, it was both frozen and flowing at the same time.
He looked around, but everything was blurry—sometimes even blacked out.
Then a mysterious voice sounded, somewhere in the distance:
"There's not much time left. I have to be quick."
A wave of energy washed over the frozen world.
Then, as if nothing had happened, the world started moving again. The memories of this event were gone before he even had the time to acknowledge their existence.
Riven found himself standing directly beneath the split sky.
His mind was in a world of pain.
He had failed.
He was unable to take control of his own mind. And now—it was too late.
But there was still one thing lingering beyond the curtain of pain. One word that hadn't made sense ever since it appeared in his mind:
'Astel.'
That one word somehow brought him immense comfort amidst everything else around him.
He didn't fail. Not yet.
Somehow, he felt that this wasn't the end.
That it couldn't be the end.
His end.
He fought against every impulse flooding his body. He forced his mind to quiet down.
And, as if listening to his command, the voices assaulting his thoughts disappeared.
The pressure crushing his every instinct dimmed—becoming almost unnoticeable.
For the first time since the Rift had opened...
He closed his eyes.