The world was breaking again.
The golden roots that had torn through Dawnspire were retreating now, sinking slowly back into the soil — but the damage was done. Fields lay scorched, huts shattered, and the valley hummed with a low, endless vibration. It was as if the earth itself was breathing in pain.
Kairo and the others moved at first light. The road north wound through the plains, then into the skeletons of mountains long stripped bare by Riftstorms. Every mile they walked, the veins of gold beneath the ground grew thicker — glowing brighter, humming louder.
Reika kept glancing back at Noel, who trailed behind them, pale and quiet. His eyes flickered faintly gold with every pulse of the land.
"How long can he hold it together?" she asked.
Kairo didn't answer. His silence was answer enough.
Taro trudged beside them, wiping sweat from his brow. "So this First Rift — we're just walking into the place where you died, hoping it gives us answers?"
Kairo's gaze stayed fixed ahead. "Not hoping," he said. "Remembering."
By midday, they reached the Scorched Expanse — a wasteland where nothing lived, and the air shimmered with heat. The ground was glassy and cracked, and every step crunched like walking on bone.
"This is where it happened," Kairo murmured. "The end of the Tyrant's reign. The first time the Rift was opened from the inside."
Mira stepped forward, the wind tugging her white hair. "You mean you opened it."
"Yes."
He knelt and pressed his hand to the ground. Flames whispered faintly under his touch. "I thought I could purify the world with fire. But fire doesn't cleanse. It remembers."
The ground beneath them began to glow. Golden fissures spread outward in rings, like the earth itself recognised his voice.
Taro swore under his breath. "I think it remembers you, boss."
They continued until they stood before a vast crater — a wound in the earth so deep it vanished into darkness. The edges were lined with black crystal, humming softly, and from its depths rose faint wisps of light that twisted like dying souls.
Noel stepped forward, drawn to it. "It's… singing."
Reika reached for him. "Don't go any closer—"
But Kairo held up a hand. "Let him. The Rift won't open without him."
Noel looked back at him, eyes filled with confusion and fear. "And if it does?"
"Then we end it here."
The boy stepped to the edge. The light from the crater surged instantly, wrapping around him like a storm of threads. The wind howled, the mountains trembled, and the sky fractured with streaks of gold and black.
Reika shielded her eyes. "It's opening again!"
Kairo's aura flared, his cloak whipping in the wind. "Then this is where we fight it!"
The Rift roared — not like a hole in the world, but like something alive. And from its depths came visions: fire-lit cities, screaming faces, the throne of ash — and the Tyrant King himself, his eyes two suns burning in the void.
Kairo felt the memories clawing at his mind, whispering in his old voice:
"You never destroyed me. You only delayed what was always meant to return."
Kairo shouted into the wind, his voice raw. "Then I'll finish it this time!"
The Rift exploded.
Light swallowed the world.
When the storm finally broke, only silence remained. The crater had changed — now lined with veins of molten gold that pulsed like blood. In its centre stood a path, spiralling downward into the darkness.
Kairo stared into the pit, then at his companions. "Below lies the First Rift's core — the birthplace of both my curse and this world's rebirth."
Reika gripped her swords tighter. "Then we go together."
Kairo nodded once. "Together."
The group stepped into the abyss. The light swallowed them whole — and for the first time since the fall of Amaranth, the world held its breath.