Alina couldn't sleep that night. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the message on her phone. "The rift is not closed. You have a role yet to play." The words repeated in her head like a chant, filling her with equal parts fear and excitement. She gripped the dagger still strapped to her side—her only proof that her time in the Continent wasn't a figment of her imagination. The weight of it was real. The cool metal against her palm was real. And so, she realized, was the promise in that cryptic message.
But what did it mean? What role did she still have to play?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint humming sound. It was subtle at first, so soft she thought she might be imagining it, but it grew steadily louder. The air in the room felt charged, static electricity prickling at her skin. She stood, her heart pounding, as the lightbulb overhead flickered and buzzed.
"Not again." she whispered.
The humming morphed into a low vibration that she could feel in her chest. The shadows in the corners of the room began to twist and writhe, and the air shimmered like heat rising off asphalt. Alina backed toward the wall, gripping her dagger with both hands. The rational part of her screamed to run, to get out of the apartment, but where would she go? Whatever was happening, it was already here.
The center of the room warped, the very fabric of reality tearing open before her eyes. A swirling void, dark and shot through with veins of golden light, appeared. It looked like the rift that had first brought her to the Continent—but this one was unstable, its edges fraying and flickering like static on a broken TV screen.
From within the rift, a figure stepped out.
Alina's breath caught. At first, she thought it was Geralt, but as the figure moved closer, the details became clear. It wasn't him, though the man bore some resemblance. He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad in dark armor that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. His face was half-hidden by a hood, but his eyes—amber and fierce—locked onto hers with an intensity that made her take an involuntary step back.
"You're her." he said, his voice deep and resonant. It wasn't a question.
Alina tightened her grip on the dagger. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The man took another step forward, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. "My name is Kaelen. I'm... let's say I'm a guardian of sorts. And I'm here because you're in danger."
Alina raised an eyebrow. "In danger? I'm not the one walking out of interdimensional portals into other people's apartments."
Kaelen's lips twitched, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "This rift shouldn't exist. It's unstable, and if we don't act, it could consume everything around it—your world and mine."
Her chest tightened at his words. She glanced at the swirling rift behind him, its edges flickering erratically. "Why me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why does this keep happening to me?"
"Because you've been touched by both worlds." Kaelen said simply. "The Continent's magic lingers in you, and that makes you a bridge. A thread connecting two tapestries that should never have been woven together."
Alina's grip on the dagger faltered. "You're saying this is my fault?"
Kaelen shook his head. "Fault? No. Fate? Perhaps. But that doesn't matter now. What matters is that you have a choice to make."
Her stomach churned. "What choice?"
"To close the rift for good—or to step through it."
The words hung heavy in the air. Alina looked at the rift, its golden veins pulsing like a heartbeat, and then back at Kaelen. "If I close it, what happens?"
"Your connection to the Continent will be severed." Kaelen said. "You'll stay in this world, and the rift will no longer threaten either side. But you'll never be able to go back. Not even if you wanted to."
Alina swallowed hard. "And if I step through?"
Kaelen's expression darkened. "Then you'll become part of the Continent again—body, mind, and soul. But there's no guarantee you'll survive what's waiting for you on the other side. The rift is unstable for a reason. Something is pulling at it, trying to force its way through. If you go back, you'll be walking straight into the fire."
Alina's mind raced. She thought of her life here—the stability, the comfort, the mundane safety of it all. But it felt hollow now, like a faded echo of who she used to be. And then she thought of the Continent. Of the dangers and challenges, yes, but also of the purpose she'd found there. Of Geralt and Yennefer, and the strange, twisted beauty of that world.
"I need time to think." she said finally.
Kaelen's eyes softened, and he nodded. "I can give you until dawn. But no longer. The rift won't hold beyond that."
With a sweep of his hand, he conjured a golden hourglass. Its sands began to trickle down, marking the hours she had left. Without another word, he stepped back into the rift and vanished, leaving Alina alone in her apartment once more.
She stared at the hourglass, her thoughts a chaotic storm. The sands slipped away, grain by grain, and with each passing moment, the weight of her decision grew heavier. Could she truly let go of the Continent, of the person she had become there? Or would she take the leap, risking everything to return to a world that might not even want her?
By the time the first rays of dawn crept through her window, Alina had made her decision. She stood before the rift, the dagger at her side and resolve in her heart. The hourglass was nearly empty, its final grains slipping away. She reached out, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the shimmering edge of the rift.
"I'm ready." she whispered.
The rift pulsed, the golden light enveloping her as she stepped through. The world around her dissolved, replaced by the familiar scent of damp earth, pine, and steel.
And then, everything went dark.