Vesperian was falling through himself.
His consciousness splintered, each fragment showing a different reality—in one, he stood beside Sereth in the fold-space forest; in another, he floated in the void between worlds; in a third, he watched his own body from above, a stranger observing a vessel that no longer seemed his own.
Brother… brother… brother…
The word echoed, bouncing between the fragments of his mind. But the voice wasn't his brother's. It was the Warden's stolen approximation—hollow, wrong, a mask worn by something that had never known flesh.
He tried to center himself, to pull the pieces back together, but they slipped through his grasp like water. And beneath it all, a silver thread pulsed, tugging him toward something vast and hungry.
Vesperian.
This voice was different—warm, familiar. Sereth.
Vesperian, focus on my voice. Find your center.
He reached for her words, using them as an anchor. Slowly, painfully, the fragments began to realign. The multiple realities collapsed into one, and Vesperian found himself on his knees in a clearing, Sereth's hand on his shoulder, her amber eyes filled with concern.
"You were gone," she said, relief evident in her voice. "Your body was here, but you weren't."
Vesperian drew a ragged breath. The air tasted metallic, charged with residual energy from their passage through the fold-space. "How long?"
"Minutes. Maybe less." Sereth helped him to his feet, her touch careful, as if he might shatter. "The displacement sickness affects everyone differently. For the Rift-born, it can be… unpredictable."
He nodded, though the explanation felt incomplete. What he had experienced wasn't mere displacement sickness—it was something deeper, more fundamental. A fracturing of self that mirrored the sundering of his creation.
They stood in a small clearing surrounded by trees unlike any Vesperian had seen before. Their trunks were pale, almost translucent, with veins of amber running through them like frozen lightning. The leaves shimmered with an inner light, casting dappled patterns across the forest floor.
"Where are we?" he asked, his voice steadier now.
"The Amber Reach," Sereth replied. "A borderland between the fold-space and the outer realms. We'll rest here before continuing to the Veridian Enclave."
Vesperian nodded, but as Sereth turned away to survey their surroundings, he caught a glimpse of something in her expression—a flicker of doubt, quickly masked. She was worried about him, yes, but there was something else. Something she wasn't saying.
He looked down at his hands, expecting to see the familiar shimmer of energy beneath his skin. Instead, he found thin lines of silver tracing along his veins, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. The hollow ache within him had changed, too—less an emptiness now than a presence, a weight that pulled at him from the inside.
"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Sereth asked, noticing his examination.
"What is?"
"The Rift's influence." She gestured to the silver lines on his skin. "The tethering."
Vesperian flexed his fingers, watching the silver light flow beneath his skin. "What exactly is tethering?"
Sereth sighed, her expression growing grave. "It's how the Rift maintains its connection to those it touches. For most, it's subtle—dreams, intuitions, the occasional glimpse beyond the veil. For Rift Walkers like me, it's stronger—a constant awareness, a pull we learn to navigate." She paused, studying him. "But for you… it's something else entirely."
"Because I'm Rift-born?"
"Because you're sundered," she corrected. "The tether isn't just connecting you to the Rift—it's trying to reconnect you to your other half. And that makes it exponentially more powerful… and more dangerous."
Vesperian absorbed this, feeling the truth of it resonate with the silver pulse beneath his skin. "The Warden," he said after a moment. "It wore my brother's face."
"A cruel tactic," Sereth agreed, her voice hardening. "The Council knows your weakness. They'll exploit it without hesitation."
"But how did they know?" Vesperian pressed. "How could they have his face when I've barely glimpsed it myself?"
Sereth was silent for a long moment, her gaze distant. "The Council has ways of extracting information from the Rift itself. Methods I don't fully understand—and don't want to." A shadow crossed her face. "Whatever they did, it allowed them to create that approximation of your brother. A mask, nothing more."
But it had felt like more than a mask to Vesperian. The face the Warden wore had resonated with something deep within him, triggering a recognition beyond mere appearance. As if, somehow, the Council had captured a piece of his brother's essence.
"We should move," Sereth said, breaking into his thoughts. "The Amber Reach isn't safe for extended periods. The boundaries here are thin."
As they gathered themselves to continue their journey, Vesperian noticed a small pool of water at the edge of the clearing. Its surface was unnaturally still, reflecting the amber-veined trees with perfect clarity. Drawn by an impulse he couldn't name, he approached it.
His reflection appeared normal at first—the same features he had glimpsed in the pool after his creation. But as he watched, the image rippled, though no wind disturbed the water's surface. The face looking back at him shifted, subtly at first, then more dramatically. The crimson-violet of his eyes spread, veining outward across his skin like cracks in porcelain. His features blurred, becoming less defined, more fluid.
Then, with a final ripple, the face in the water wasn't his at all. It was Lyra's—silver eyes gazing up at him with an expression of infinite sadness and infinite hunger.
We are becoming, whispered a voice that was and wasn't Lyra's. We are unmaking.
Vesperian jerked back from the pool, heart hammering. The reflection returned to normal instantly, showing only his own startled face.
"Vesperian?" Sereth called, noticing his reaction. "What is it?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing. A trick of the light."
The lie came easily, surprising him. But something held him back from sharing what he had seen. A protective instinct, perhaps—not for himself, but for the silver-eyed presence that had looked out from his reflection. For Lyra.
As they left the clearing, Vesperian felt the silver lines beneath his skin pulse more strongly, as if in approval of his silence.
They traveled in relative quiet for a time, moving through the Amber Reach with careful steps. Sereth led the way, her movements precise and practiced. She seemed to know exactly where to step, which paths to avoid, as if reading invisible signs in the landscape.
"The Veridian Enclave is still several transitions away," she explained as they paused at what appeared to be a junction of sorts—a place where the amber-veined trees grew in a perfect circle around a stone plinth. "We'll need to cross through at least two more borderlands before we reach it."
Vesperian nodded, only half-listening. Since leaving the clearing, he had become increasingly aware of a strange doubling in his perception. It was as if he were seeing two worlds layered over each other—the Amber Reach with its pale trees and shimmering leaves, and something else. Something vast and impossible.
A city, perhaps. Or the memory of a city. Towers of crystal and light rising in impossible configurations, streets that twisted and turned back on themselves, plazas where beings of pure energy gathered in communion. It flickered at the edges of his vision, becoming more solid when he didn't look directly at it, fading when he tried to focus.
And there were voices, too. Whispers that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, calling him by names he had never heard before.
Veil-breaker. Hollow-heart. Bridge-between.
"Vesperian?" Sereth's voice cut through the whispers, sharp with concern. "You're drifting again."
He blinked, forcing himself to focus on her. "I'm seeing things," he admitted. "A city, I think. And hearing voices."
Sereth's expression tightened. "The tethering is progressing faster than I expected." She reached into a pouch at her belt and withdrew a small vial filled with amber liquid. "This will help temporarily. It won't stop the process, but it might slow it down until we reach the Enclave."
Vesperian took the vial, studying the liquid inside. It seemed to move with a life of its own, swirling and pulsing in rhythm with the silver lines beneath his skin.
"What is it?"
"Distilled essence of the Amber Reach itself," Sereth replied. "It has stabilizing properties for those touched by the Rift."
As Vesperian uncorked the vial, a new voice whispered in his ear—not the distant calls from before, but something closer, more intimate.
Don't, it said, in a voice that was three voices layered together—Lyra's silver tones, his brother's deeper resonance, and Sereth's steady cadence, all distorted and blended into one impossible sound. It will blind you to what you need to see.
Vesperian hesitated, the vial halfway to his lips.
"What's wrong?" Sereth asked, watching him closely.
"I…" He struggled to find words for what he had heard. "Will this affect my connection to the Rift?"
Sereth's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's the point. It will dampen the tethering, make it more manageable."
"And my ability to find my brother?"
A flicker of something—suspicion? concern?—crossed Sereth's face. "The Enclave will help you with that. But first, we need to get you there safely, with your mind intact."
Vesperian nodded slowly, then drank the amber liquid in one swift motion. It tasted of honey and lightning, burning a path down his throat before spreading outward through his body. The effect was immediate—the whispers faded, the ghostly city vanished from the corners of his vision, and the silver lines beneath his skin dimmed to a faint glow.
But the hollow within him ached more sharply now, as if something vital had been muffled.
"Better?" Sereth asked.
"Clearer," Vesperian replied carefully. It wasn't quite a lie.
Sereth seemed satisfied with his answer. She turned back to the stone plinth, placing her hand on its surface. Symbols carved into the stone began to glow with the same amber light that ran through the trees.
"This transition will take us to the Crystalline Wastes," she explained. "It's more dangerous than the Amber Reach—less stable, more exposed to the Rift's direct influence. Stay close to me, and don't touch anything that glows."
As she worked, activating the transition point with practiced gestures, Vesperian found himself studying her more closely. There was a tension in her movements that hadn't been there before, a wariness that went beyond their current situation.
"You've done this before," he observed. "Guided someone like me."
Sereth's hands faltered briefly before resuming their work. "What makes you say that?"
"The way you watch me. Like you're waiting for something specific to happen. Something you've seen before."
The symbols on the plinth flared brighter, casting Sereth's face in harsh relief. For a moment, she didn't respond, focused on completing the activation sequence. Then, without looking at him, she spoke.
"His name was Kalen," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "He was a Rift Walker like me, but more… ambitious. He believed he could harness the Rift's power directly, use it to strengthen the barriers between worlds rather than just navigate them."
The air around the plinth began to shimmer, reality bending as the transition point activated.
"What happened to him?" Vesperian asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
"The tethering consumed him," Sereth said simply. "Not all at once. It was gradual. First the visions, then the voices. He started keeping secrets, disappearing for hours only to return with no memory of where he'd been." Her voice hardened. "By the time I realized how far gone he was, it was too late. The Council sent Wardens after him. I never saw him again."
The transition point was fully active now, a swirling vortex of amber light hovering above the plinth.
"Was he your friend?" Vesperian asked.
Sereth finally looked at him, her amber eyes reflecting the light of the vortex. "He was my brother."
Before Vesperian could respond, she stepped into the vortex and vanished. After a moment's hesitation, he followed.
The transition was different this time—less a falling sensation than a shattering, as if his body were being broken into countless pieces and reassembled in a new configuration. When the world stabilized around him, Vesperian found himself standing on a vast plain of crystalline formations, stretching to the horizon in all directions. The sky above was a deep, bruised purple, shot through with veins of silver light that pulsed like the beating of a vast heart.
Sereth stood a few paces away, her back to him, shoulders tense.
"I'm sorry about your brother," Vesperian said quietly.
"It was a long time ago," she replied, though her tone suggested otherwise. She turned to face him, her expression carefully composed. "But it's why I understand the danger you're in better than most. The tethering isn't just a connection—it's a hunger that grows. And the Rift is patient."
Vesperian nodded, feeling the weight of her words. The amber liquid had dulled his awareness of the silver lines beneath his skin, but he could still feel them, pulsing in time with the veins of light in the sky above.
"You think the same thing will happen to me," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I think you're different from Kalen," Sereth replied carefully. "But also more vulnerable. He chose his path. You were born to yours."
She began walking across the crystalline plain, picking her way between formations that rose like frozen waves from the ground. Vesperian followed, noting how the crystals seemed to resonate as they passed, emitting soft, bell-like tones that lingered in the air.
"The Enclave has resources that might help you," Sereth continued. "Scholars who have studied the Rift for centuries, artifacts that can stabilize the tethering. But ultimately…" She trailed off, then shook her head. "We should keep moving. The Wastes aren't safe after dark."
Vesperian glanced at the purple sky, where the silver veins pulsed with increasing intensity. "Is it getting dark now?"
"Not dark," Sereth corrected grimly. "Active. The Rift's influence waxes and wanes here, like tides. Right now, the tide is coming in."
As if to emphasize her point, one of the crystal formations near them suddenly shattered, exploding into thousands of glittering shards that hung suspended in the air for a moment before reforming into a new shape—a perfect replica of a human hand, reaching upward.
"Don't look at it," Sereth warned, quickening her pace. "The Rift uses the crystals as conduits sometimes, creating echoes of things it's touched or consumed."
But Vesperian couldn't tear his gaze away from the crystal hand. As he watched, it flexed its fingers, then began to reshape itself again, the crystal flowing like liquid. It formed a face—not his brother's this time, but a woman's. Her features were delicate, her expression serene. Silver eyes opened, fixing on Vesperian with unmistakable recognition.
Lyra.
Help us, her crystal lips mouthed silently. We are trapped.
"Vesperian!" Sereth's voice cracked like a whip. "I said don't look!"
He wrenched his gaze away, but the image of Lyra's crystal face remained burned into his mind. The desperation in her silver eyes, the plea in her silent words.
We are trapped.
Not I. We.
"What does the Rift want?" he asked, hurrying to catch up with Sereth, who had moved several paces ahead.
She glanced back at him, her expression guarded. "Want? It doesn't want anything. It's not conscious, not in the way we understand consciousness. It's a force, a phenomenon."
"But Lyra—"
"Is a manifestation," Sereth cut him off. "A face the Rift wears to interact with our reality. Nothing more."
Vesperian fell silent, unconvinced. The Lyra he had glimpsed—in the forest, in the pool, in the crystal—didn't feel like a mere manifestation. There was a presence behind those silver eyes, a will that was distinct from the chaotic energy of the Rift itself.
They continued across the Wastes, the crystal formations growing more elaborate and unsettling around them. Some took the shapes of buildings or creatures, others twisted into impossible geometries that hurt the eye to look upon. The silver veins in the sky pulsed faster, brighter, and the air grew thick with a static charge that made Vesperian's skin tingle.
"There's something you're not telling me," he said finally, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between them.
Sereth didn't slow her pace or look back. "There are many things I'm not telling you. Some because you're not ready to hear them, others because I don't fully understand them myself."
"Tell me about the Council, then," Vesperian pressed. "Why are they so afraid of me? Of what I represent?"
This time, Sereth did pause, turning to face him with a sigh. "The Council was formed after the First Sundering—an event that nearly destroyed Astralis and all connected realms. Their purpose is to maintain the barriers between worlds, to prevent another catastrophe." She gestured to the pulsing sky above them. "The Rift is a wound in reality, a tear in the fabric that separates dimensions. The Council believes it must be contained, controlled."
"And the Wardens?"
"Their enforcers. Beings altered by the Council's magic to exist partially outside normal reality, allowing them to track and neutralize Rift-related threats."
Vesperian considered this. "And I'm a threat because I'm Rift-born? Or because I'm sundered?"
"Both," Sereth replied bluntly. "But mostly because of what your existence implies."
"Which is?"
She hesitated, then spoke carefully. "That the Rift might be evolving. Adapting. Creating beings that can move between worlds with greater freedom than even the Wardens." Her eyes met his, serious and intent. "If that's true—if the Rift is developing agency, purpose—then everything the Council has built to contain it might be insufficient."
The implications hung in the air between them, heavy with foreboding. If Sereth was right, then Vesperian wasn't just a curiosity or an anomaly—he was a harbinger of something much larger and more dangerous.
But that didn't explain everything. It didn't explain Lyra, or the silver thread that had appeared during his creation, or the sense of purpose he felt growing within the hollow of his sundered self.
Before he could press further, a sound cut through the crystalline silence of the Wastes—a high, keening wail that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The crystal formations around them vibrated in response, emitting harmonics that built upon each other until the air itself seemed to scream.
"Rift tide," Sereth said grimly, drawing her dagger. "We need to find shelter. Now."
The silver veins in the sky had coalesced into a single, massive pulse that sent waves of energy cascading down to the ground. Where they struck, the crystal formations twisted and grew, reaching upward like hungry fingers.
Sereth pointed to a formation in the distance—a cluster of crystals that had grown into a rough approximation of a dome. "There! It's our best chance!"
They ran, dodging between writhing crystal growths that erupted from the ground with increasing frequency. The air grew thicker, harder to breathe, charged with energy that made Vesperian's silver-lined veins burn beneath his skin.
As they neared the dome, a massive crystal formation burst from the ground directly in their path. Unlike the others, this one took shape with deliberate precision, forming a perfect archway that pulsed with the same silver light that veined the sky.
Sereth skidded to a halt, her dagger raised defensively. "Go around!" she shouted over the keening wail that still filled the air.
But Vesperian stood transfixed. Within the archway, a scene was taking form—not a random echo or manifestation, but a clear, deliberate vision. He saw a vast chamber, its walls lined with books and artifacts. In the center stood a group of figures in formal robes, gathered around a table on which lay a familiar object—a shard of pure darkness, identical to the one the Warden had carried.
One of the figures looked up, directly at Vesperian, as if aware of his observation. It was an elderly man with stern features and eyes that burned with cold fire.
"Headmaster Kaelir," Vesperian whispered, the name coming to him from nowhere.
The figure in the vision nodded, as if hearing him, then gestured to the shard on the table. His lips moved, forming words that Vesperian somehow understood despite the distance and the barrier between them.
The sundered one awakens. The brother stirs. The binding weakens.
"Vesperian!" Sereth's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Don't look at it! It's not real!"
But it felt real. More real, perhaps, than the Crystalline Wastes around him. The vision in the archway shifted, showing a new scene—a dark chamber where a figure lay suspended in a field of energy, neither fully corporeal nor entirely spectral. Though its features were obscured, Vesperian felt a jolt of recognition so powerful it nearly brought him to his knees.
Brother.
The suspended figure stirred, as if hearing his thought. Its head turned slightly, revealing a glimpse of a face that mirrored Vesperian's own—but with eyes of violet laced with crimson, the inverse of his own crimson-violet gaze.
Find me, came a thought that was not his own. Before they use me to unmake you.
The vision in the archway shattered suddenly as Sereth physically tackled Vesperian, breaking his line of sight. They tumbled to the ground as the crystal arch collapsed behind them, sending shards flying in all directions.
"What were you thinking?" Sereth demanded, her voice raw with fear and anger. "Those visions are traps! The Rift uses them to lure in the unwary!"
Vesperian struggled to his feet, his mind reeling from what he had seen. "It wasn't a trap," he insisted. "It was a message. I saw my brother. He's alive, Sereth. The Council has him."
Sereth's expression shifted from anger to alarm. "That's not possible. If your brother was scattered across dimensions—"
"Then they found a way to gather the pieces," Vesperian finished. "Or enough of them to matter."
The keening wail around them intensified, and the crystal dome they had been heading for began to collapse, its structure dissolving under the pressure of the Rift tide. Sereth cursed, looking around desperately for alternative shelter.
"There!" she pointed to a depression in the ground where several crystal formations had grown together to form a kind of cave. "It's our only chance!"
They sprinted for the crystal cave, diving inside just as a wave of silver energy swept across the plain behind them. The interior was cramped but secure, the crystals humming with a resonance that seemed to repel the energy outside.
Sereth slumped against the wall, breathing hard. "That was too close."
Vesperian nodded, though his mind was still filled with the vision of his brother suspended in that dark chamber. The certainty that it had been real—not a Rift-spawned illusion but a genuine glimpse across dimensions—burned within him.
"How long will the tide last?" he asked.
"Hours, maybe," Sereth replied, checking her dagger for damage. The symbols etched into its blade were glowing faintly, reacting to the energy saturating the air. "We're safe here for now, but we'll need to move as soon as it subsides."
Vesperian settled against the opposite wall, watching as the silver lines beneath his skin pulsed in rhythm with the humming crystals around them. The amber liquid Sereth had given him was wearing off, his awareness of the Rift's presence growing stronger again.
"You don't believe me," he said after a moment. "About what I saw."
Sereth sighed, sheathing her dagger. "I believe you saw something. Whether it was real or a manipulation…" She shrugged. "The Rift is masterful at showing people what they most want to see."
"And you think I want to see my brother captured by the Council?"
"I think you want to believe he's whole. Findable." Her amber eyes met his, sympathetic but unyielding. "The alternative—that he's truly scattered beyond recovery—is harder to accept."
Vesperian couldn't deny the truth in her words. The thought that his brother might be irretrievably lost was a wound deeper than the hollow ache of his sundered self. But that didn't make the vision false.
"There's something else," he said, deciding to share at least part of what he had been holding back. "In the vision, I recognized one of the Council members. Headmaster Kaelir. But I've never met him, never even heard his name before."
Sereth's expression sharpened with interest. "You're certain of the name?"
Vesperian nodded. "It came to me the moment I saw him. As if I'd always known it."
"Kaelir is the Headmaster of the Astralis Arcanum," Sereth said slowly