Chapter 100 The Riftheart and the Descent
The world had stopped.
Not in the way a clock stops ticking, but in the way a story forgets how to end.
Not like when something bad happens, like you lose someone, and you struggle to breathe.
To think.
To operate.
To form coherent thoughts.
Because that stopping eventually had a light at the end of the tunnel. Eventually, everything was going to get better; the light would start to shine briefly, maybe your shadow wouldn’t feel as dark.
You won’t feel so alone.
You will begin to breathe.
Each breath becomes a painful task.
We stood in the aftermath of the cosmic fracture, the sky above us a shattered canvas of stars and flame. The Rift pulsed beneath our feet, no longer a wound, but a mouth—open, waiting, hungry.
Lady Virellian had vanished.
But her whisper still echoed.
“Now, I take everything.”
It didn’t feel real, but at the same time, it was a reality that no one could escape.
The Flameborn resistance was scattered.
Loss will do that; we were like injured animals quickly escaping to lick our wounds.
Thessa sat on a broken stone, her blade across her knees, staring at nothing. It was like the events hadn’t quite sunk in yet.
Kael was silent, his usual sarcasm buried beneath exhaustion, hurt, and the feeling of failure.
Zeke was tending to Gerald, who had stopped glowing. It was like watching a robot move through the tasks to keep his mind busy.
Quacknor perched beside them, his feathers singed, his eyes wary and randomly hissing at bugs that flew by.
Ellira and Lira were drawing glyphs in the dirt, their hands trembling, their bodies shaking.
Yuel was muttering to himself, trying to reweave the ley lines that no longer obeyed. The more he tried, the more they kept falling apart.
Aine and Talon stood beside me, her silver flame flickering. Talon was standing guard, not saying anything, but rather ensuring that nothing was going to come at us again.
And Milo—
Milo was changing.
He stood at the edge of the Rift, the black flame in his hand no longer flickering, but consuming. It pulsed with a rhythm that didn’t belong to this world. His eyes were darker, his voice quieter, his presence heavier.
“She’s inside,” he said. “Watching and Waiting.”
“Fight it, Milo,” I said.
“I already did. I lost the shadows within me,” Milo replies in his new creepy voice.
He turned to me.
And for a moment—
I didn’t recognize him.
I felt guilty for what I had done. What did I turn my little brother into? What have I done?
“You have to keep fighting, you can’t let her win,” I said, but it was like talking to a brick wall. Milo wasn’t listening to me; he was listening to the shadows within. It was like no matter what we said, he just didn’t hear us, not completely.
The Rift opened.
Not with sound.
With memory.
We were pulled into the Riftheart—the center of all magic, all time, all flame.
It was a place of paradox.
The sky was below us.
The ground was above.
The stars whispered.
And the flame wept.
“Well, this is perfect. Looks like upside down day was called, and no one thought to tell us,” Kael mutters as he kicks out a floating mushroom.
Lady Virellian stood at the center.
She was no longer flame.
She was fate.
“I am the end,” she said. “And you are the echo.”
“I honestly think that it is the other way around,” I mutter as she continues to gloat in front of us.
Sure, we must look horrible. We were battered, bruised, and bleeding, but we were still standing.
She raised her hand.
And the Rift screamed.
We fought.
Again.
But this time, it was different.
She didn’t attack our bodies.
She didn’t attack our magic.
She attacked our stories.
She tried to rewrite us.
Thessa forgot her name. She forgot that she was an earthbound power; she forgot us.
Kael forgot his voice. He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out.
Zeke forgot his purpose. He became listless; he just existed.
Yuel forgot his spells. He sat rummaging through his bag looking and re-looking for spells to help him achieve what he needed.
Ellira and Lira forgot each other. They stared at each other like blank canvases waiting for something to appear, but nothing came.
Talon forgot to protect; he stood looking around before turning and starting to walk away.
Gerald forgot how to stand.
Quacknor forgot how to fly.
Milo—
Milo forgot me.
I screamed.
But the Rift swallowed the sound.
Aine stepped forward.
Her silver flame surged.
She touched Milo’s shoulder.
And whispered:
“She loved you. She still does. She is fighting for you.”
Milo blinked.
And the black flame flickered.
But it didn’t fade.
It grew.
It felt like the first bit of hope since the last battle was finally showing itself.
“I can’t stop it,” he said. “The Void is inside me.”
“Then fight it,” I said.
“I don’t know how.”
“You’re not alone.”
He looked at me.
And for a moment—
He was Milo again.
Then he was gone again, dark eyes, just darkness covered him.
Virellian laughed.
“You are delaying the inevitable. Use the shadows, they will help you.”
She raised her hand.
And the Rift cracked.
The stars fell.
And the world—
Split.
We were scattered.
Each of us pulled into a different thread of fate.
I saw myself as a queen.
As a tyrant.
As a flame.
As ash.
Milo saw himself as a god.
As a void.
As a weapon.
As a wound.
And Virellian—
She saw herself as everything.
I reached for Milo.
But he was fading.
The black flame surged.
And he whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Then—
He vanished. The shadows swallowed him whole. There was no screaming, no sound at all from him.
I called his name, but there was no answer. We were breaking, and I didn’t know if we could mend what we were becoming.
Virellina was winning.
We were losing.