Chapter 124: The Rift
The tower pulsed with a strange, humming energy, one that prickled against the skin like a live wire, agitating the instincts of every wolf who approached. Isla stepped through the cracked archway first, her pulse beating like war drums beneath her skin. Damian was close behind, his hand never straying far from her back, protective as always, but she knew the look in his silver eyes wasn’t just worry. It was way more than that. It reached out to the depths of his biggest fears.
It was pure fear.
The corridor spiraled upward in tight, winding steps. Each floor they passed seemed more forgotten than the last, but when they reached the chamber at the top, they knew they weren’t alone. The door groaned open, revealing a wide circular room bathed in flickering blue flame. At its center stood an altar carved with glyphs that shimmered with power, Sombrosi markings. But woven through them was another set of symbols, etched more crudely, jagged and wild.
Veyra.
Brienne was already there, her stance alert, her body drawn taut like a bowstring. She turned as they entered and the look on her face was not just recognition, it was dread.
“There’s something here,” she whispered. “Something old. I don’t think it wants us here.”
Before anyone could respond, the flames flared violently and from the shadows stepped a figure that was tall, cloaked and faceless, like darkness made flesh. Its voice echoed, not from the mouth, but inside their heads, sliding like oil across their minds.
“You should not have come.”
Isla staggered, her knees almost buckling beneath the pressure of the creature’s presence. Damian caught her, growling low in his throat as his golden eyes flashed. But even he knew this thing wasn’t something he could fight, not with claws, not with teeth.
“What are you?” he hissed.
“I am the last of the Bindwalkers,” it answered, turning its faceless head toward Isla. “You carry the child that will break the veils. You carry prophecy.”
The flames dimmed for a beat, as if the tower itself were holding its breath.
“Why now?” Isla asked, stepping forward despite Damian’s warning hand. “Why show yourself?”
“Because your blood is waking the stones,” it replied. “And there are those who would bind the Sombrosi and Veyra again, for power, for dominion, for vengeance.”
Brienne stiffened. “You mean Vincent.”
The Bindwalker gave no confirmation, only turned and placed a hand on the altar. The glyphs shimmered, then shifted, reshaping into a map. There were cities, rivers and ridges. But at the center, a flickering mark pulsed red, like a wound in the land.
“He’s gone to the rift,” Lucia said suddenly, her voice sharp with realization. “He’s going to break the seal.”
“If he does,” the Bindwalker murmured, “there will be no containing the darkness. The curse will no longer be dormant. It will bleed.”
“Then we stop him,” Damian growled, stepping forward.
But the Bindwalker turned to Isla, and for the first time, the tower truly stilled.
“No,” it said. “Only she can.”
A hush followed, thick and trembling.
Lucia stepped forward, but her voice was gentle. “She’s pregnant.”
“Precisely,” the creature whispered.
Damian snarled, stepping in front of Isla. “Then tell us what she has to do and we’ll all face it together.”
The Bindwalker paused, and the silence that followed was a kind of mourning. “She must enter the rift. Alone.”
“No,” Damian said immediately, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
But Isla’s gaze remained locked on the altar, on the map, on that single pulsing wound. The sense of inevitability curled around her like smoke.
“I can feel it,” she murmured. “The pull. The same hum that was in the ruins… it’s the same as what’s in me.”
Brienne stepped forward, swallowing hard. “There’s more. When I remembered… when the chains broke, I saw it. Isla, your child is not just the key. But the lock too. The rift responds to the baby’s blood.”
Lucia inhaled sharply, her eyes flicking toward the map again. “That’s why Vincent wants the child. He doesn’t want to destroy the seal. He wants to control it.”
The Bindwalker nodded once. “And through control, he will become the vessel of all that was buried.”
The weight of the moment sank into their bones.
“We don’t have time,” Isla said, drawing herself up. “We move tonight.”
Damian turned to her, anguish in his eyes. “You’re not going in alone.”
“I won’t be,” she said, placing his hand on her belly. “Not truly.”
Even as she said it, something flickered at the edges of her awareness. A whisper not from the Bindwalker, but from something older. Something buried deep within the mountain walls. A presence, ancient and waiting.
Watching.
The rift wasn’t just a passage. It was a door and someone on the other side was already reaching for the handle.