The world reassembled in fragments of light. Arlen felt the ground vanish beneath his feet, then return as something smooth, metallic, humming faintly with power. The air was colder here—unnaturally so—its chill carrying whispers that echoed without a source.
When his vision steadied, he found himself standing in a vast, cathedral-like chamber made entirely of obsidian and silver. Floating platforms hovered in the air like fragments of shattered moons, connected by bridges of shifting light. The walls pulsed faintly, veins of energy running through them like blood through the veins of some enormous being.
"Where… are we?" Lira's voice trembled slightly as she turned in slow circles, her eyes wide at the sight.
Arlen's gaze lingered on the carvings etched into the nearest pillar—symbols similar to those on the gate but far more intricate. They spiraled inward, forming a pattern that pulsed in sync with his heartbeat.
"The Celestial Forges," he said quietly. "This is where it all began."
Kaine stepped forward, staff glowing faintly. "The energy here… it's endless. Ancient. Older than recorded history."
Rynel frowned. "Feels wrong. Like the place itself is watching us."
"It is," Arlen replied softly. "This forge wasn't just a place—it was alive."
As they walked forward, their footsteps echoed endlessly through the chamber. The air shimmered, and for a moment, they could see faint afterimages—ghostly silhouettes of figures working on immense machines, their faces hidden behind masks of light.
Lira slowed beside Arlen. "Are these memories?"
He nodded faintly. "Echoes. What remains of the past."
They stopped before a massive dais at the center of the forge. Upon it stood a monolithic structure—half statue, half machine—depicting a humanoid figure with six wings made of energy and a halo burning like a miniature sun. Its chest was hollow, filled with a swirling core of blue and gold light.
Arlen's breath caught. He remembered this place—not as clearly as a memory, but like a dream he'd lived long ago. He remembered standing here, surrounded by those same figures. He remembered the voice that had spoken his name for the first time.
> "Arlen Frostfire. Heir of the Riftlight. Forged to guard the balance."
That voice echoed faintly now, overlapping with the silence. Lira glanced around, startled. "Did you hear that?"
Arlen nodded. "It's not a memory this time."
The statue's eyes ignited, twin beams of gold cutting through the chamber. The light fell on Arlen, tracing his outline. The air grew heavy, as if the entire forge was drawing breath.
"Arlen Frostfire," the voice boomed—not from the statue, but from everywhere at once. "Returned from the echo of mortality. You bear fragments of what was once divine. Why have you come?"
He hesitated, then stepped forward. "To understand. To know who I was—and why you made me."
The voice paused. Then it replied, softer now, like wind brushing against glass.
> "You were forged from frost and storm, the last spark of the celestial mantle. When the heavens fell, you were sent below, to slumber among mortals until the Rift called again."
The light flickered, and the statue's chest split open, revealing a series of glowing shards—each one pulsing faintly.
Lira stepped closer, eyes wide. "What are those?"
"Fragments," Arlen whispered. "Pieces of my old self."
Rynel frowned. "You're saying you've been… split apart?"
"Yes," the voice replied, answering for him. "To prevent annihilation. The Heir's full form could not be sustained within the mortal plane. Thus, his essence was divided into seven fragments, scattered across the Realms."
Kaine lowered his staff, awe and fear blending on his face. "Seven fragments… that means the Rift isn't just random. It's calling those pieces back."
Arlen's jaw tightened. "And what happens when they all return?"
"Completion," the forge answered. "Or destruction. The outcome depends on the will of the vessel."
The chamber trembled, cracks of light running through the floor. Lira grabbed Arlen's arm. "We should leave!"
The voice deepened. "The balance teeters. The Rift expands. The time of convergence approaches."
The floating platforms began to collapse, spiraling downward into endless darkness. The group turned to flee, the bridges of light flickering beneath their feet.
"Move!" Arlen shouted.
They sprinted across a collapsing pathway, the energy beneath them shattering with every step. Rynel fired an arrow behind them, striking one of the ghostly shapes that had begun forming out of the walls. The spectral form screamed and vanished, but more emerged, crawling out from the fractured stone.
"Echo guardians!" Kaine shouted. "They're made of pure Rift energy!"
Arlen's frost erupted instinctively, spreading across the floor to slow the pursuing entities. Lightning danced along his arm, forming a blade of crackling energy. "Keep running!"
They leapt from one collapsing bridge to another. Lira nearly slipped, but Arlen caught her hand, pulling her close before continuing their sprint. The forge's voice echoed again, but now it was fading—fragmented.
> "The Heir must awaken… before the Shadow… devours the Forge…"
The final platform gave way, and they fell.
Time fractured.
Arlen's mind was flooded with visions—flashes of the heavens burning, a throne of frost and lightning, seven figures kneeling before him, and a colossal Rift swallowing the stars. He saw himself standing alone at the edge of the void, hands outstretched, light spilling from his chest.
Then silence.
He hit the ground. Hard.
When he opened his eyes, the world was different. They were no longer in the forge but standing in a barren wasteland under a blood-red sky. The horizon shimmered like heat on metal, but the air was freezing.
Lira groaned beside him, pushing herself up. "Where… are we now?"
Arlen looked around, his eyes narrowing. "We didn't escape the Forge."
"What?"
He pointed to the horizon. There, in the distance, was the same statue—the six-winged figure—but this time it was broken, half-buried in the sand. And surrounding it were countless shadows—moving, crawling, whispering.
"The Forge brought us to its grave," he said quietly.
The group gathered, forming a defensive circle as the whispers grew louder. The shadows began to take shape—humanoid at first, then monstrous, their forms twisting unnaturally.
Rynel notched an arrow. "Guess we're not done running."
Arlen's eyes glowed faintly, lightning sparking around his hand. "No," he said. "This time, we fight."
They clashed. The battle was chaotic, filled with bursts of light and darkness. Frost coated the ground as lightning tore through the enemy ranks. Lira fought beside him with fierce precision, each swing of her blade in perfect sync with his movements.
But the more they fought, the more the shadows multiplied.
"Arlen!" Lira shouted. "We can't hold this forever!"
He looked up. The broken statue's hollow chest glowed faintly—its remaining core still pulsing. He understood instantly.
"If I reach that core, I can seal the Rift!"
Kaine's eyes widened. "That's suicide! The energy could destroy you!"
Arlen smiled faintly. "Guess we'll find out."
He surged forward, lightning and frost exploding around him. Shadows lunged, but he cut through them, each strike echoing like thunder. Lira tried to follow, but the horde swarmed between them.
"Arlen!" she screamed.
He reached the core, placing his hand against it. Energy rushed through him—cold, searing, infinite. His vision blurred as the Forge's voice whispered one last time.
> "The vessel endures. The balance remains… for now."
Light consumed everything.
When it faded, Arlen was kneeling in the sand, gasping for air. The statue was gone. The shadows had vanished. And the world was quiet again.
Lira rushed to his side, kneeling beside him. "Arlen—hey, stay with me!"
He looked at her weakly, managing a faint smirk. "Still here."
Her voice softened, relief flooding her expression. "You idiot… I thought I lost you again."
He leaned back, staring at the crimson sky. "Not yet."
Above them, the horizon began to fade back into blue. The light of dawn returned. The Rift was sealed—temporarily.
But deep beneath the silence, something stirred.
Something older. Stronger. Watching.
And smiling.
---