The cliffs had always been the end of the world.
That was what Walliam had believed as a child — that the jagged stone walls circling their valley were the teeth of some ancient giant, and beyond them was only sky, storms, and the kind of nothing people used to scare children into staying close to home.
Now he stood at the broken edge of that "end," and the lie was spread before him in endless color.
The land beyond the cliffs did not fall into emptiness.
It unfolded.
Rolling hills like ripples in green silk. Forests so vast they looked like dark oceans. Rivers flashing silver as they carved through the earth. Far in the distance, mountains rose like sleeping gods, their peaks crowned with clouds that glowed faintly blue.
Elaris let out a slow breath beside him."That…" she said softly, "is unfair."
Walliam glanced at her. "Unfair?"
"We grew up in a hole in the ground," she muttered. "The world gets all this?"
Behind them, Torren adjusted the heavy pack on his shoulders. "If you two are done admiring scenery, some of us would like to not die of exposure up here."
The wind at the cliff's edge was sharper than anything in the valley. It tugged at Walliam's coat and slipped icy fingers under his collar. The sky above wasn't the calm blue he knew. It was streaked with faint, glowing fractures — thin lines of pale light like cracks in glass.
They pulsed.
The world was still wounded.
Walliam touched his chest without thinking. The mark beneath his shirt warmed in response, a faint thrum like a second heartbeat.
Elaris noticed. She always noticed. "It's reacting again?"
"Yeah," he said. "Stronger up here."
Torren looked back at the valley below — their home shrinking into shadow. Smoke from the village fires curled upward, fragile and small.
"No going back now," he said quietly.
Walliam didn't answer. He just turned toward the narrow stone path that spiraled down the outside of the cliffs.
The first step beyond the edge of their world felt like stepping off a story he'd known his whole life.
The path down was older than the village.
The stone was smooth, worn by centuries of wind and rain. Strange symbols were carved into the rock walls — spirals, broken circles, shapes that hurt the eyes if you stared too long.
"Who built this?" Elaris asked, running her fingers over the carvings.
"Same people who built everything weird," Torren replied. "Ancients. Dead. Mysterious. Probably terrible interior decorators."
Walliam didn't laugh. The carvings made his skin prickle. Some of them were filled with a faint blue glow, like veins of light inside the stone.
As they descended, the air changed.
It smelled… bigger. Rich with soil, leaves, distant water. Not the familiar mix of valley grass and chimney smoke.
Then Walliam heard it.
A sound he had never heard before.
A deep, echoing cry that rolled across the land like thunder given a voice.
The three of them froze.
"That," Torren said carefully, "did not sound like a goat."
Another call answered from far away — higher, sharper.
Elaris swallowed. "Please tell me that's just… big birds."
Walliam looked out across the forests.
Something moved above the treeline. A shadow, massive, gliding between clouds before vanishing.
His heart raced — not with fear.
With awe.
"We wanted the world," he said quietly.
The world was answering.
They reached the base of the cliffs by midday.
Up close, the land felt even more alive. Insects hummed. Leaves whispered. The ground was soft, not the packed earth of home.
Walliam crouched and pressed his palm to the soil.
Warm.
A faint pulse answered him — so faint he might have imagined it.
But the mark in his chest flared in response.
Elaris stiffened. "Walliam."
He looked up.
The trees ahead — tall, silver-barked things with leaves like shards of glass — were moving.
Not in the wind.
Toward them.
Branches bent and twisted, forming shapes. Limbs. Faces made of bark. Eyes like glowing amber sap.
Torren raised his axe. "Well. First impressions are going great."
One of the tree-creatures stepped forward. Its voice sounded like wood creaking in a storm.
"Children… of the broken sky."
Walliam's breath caught. It wasn't hostile. But it wasn't friendly either.
"We mean no harm," he said, raising his hands.
The creature tilted its head. Leaves rustled like whispers.
"You carry the fracture… inside."
The mark burned.
Elaris stepped closer to Walliam. "We're trying to fix it. The sky. The… cracks."
The forest went still.
Then the creature extended a branch, pointing past them — deeper into the wild lands.
"Then walk the old paths. Seek the stones that remember. But know this, heart-bearer…"
Its amber gaze locked onto Walliam.
"The world beyond your cage is not waiting to be saved."
The other trees shifted, forming a wall of silent watchers.
"It is deciding what you are."
The air felt heavy.
Walliam nodded slowly. "Fair."
Torren muttered, "I liked goats better."
The tree-creatures parted, revealing a faint trail into the forest.
An invitation.
Or a test.
They had walked only an hour when the second sign that the world was wrong appeared.
The birds stopped singing.
The forest grew quiet in the worst possible way — like it was holding its breath.
Walliam felt it first. A vibration under his boots. Subtle. Rhythmic.
Elaris heard it next. "Something's running."
Torren turned. "Toward us."
The undergrowth exploded.
A creature burst into the clearing — all bone plates, jagged crystal growths, and too many legs. Its body looked like a wolf that had been shattered and put back together wrong. Purple light leaked from cracks in its hide.
Its eyes were empty holes filled with swirling violet mist.
"Shard-beast," Walliam whispered.
It saw him.
And screamed.
The sound hit like a physical blow, full of static and grief.
"Move!" Torren roared.
The beast lunged.
Walliam didn't think — he reacted.
The mark in his chest flared white-hot. Light spilled through the cracks in the creature's body, answering the glow in his own skin.
His hand shot forward.
A pulse of blue energy exploded from his palm.
The beast hit it mid-leap and slammed into a tree hard enough to splinter the trunk.
The forest shook.
The creature rose again, crystal shards grinding.
Elaris raised her hands, symbols of light forming between her fingers. "Hold it still!"
Torren charged, axe blazing with orange sparks.
The world beyond the cliffs was not scenery.
It was teeth.
The shard-beast snapped at Torren, jaws wide enough to swallow his arm. He rolled under it, slashing at its hind legs. Cracks spread through the crystal growths.
Elaris unleashed a beam of focused light. It struck the beast's skull, forcing it back.
Walliam felt the creature's pain like an echo inside his chest. Corrupted. Twisted. Wrong.
"I can reach it!" he shouted. "Just—keep it off me!"
He stepped forward, ignoring the fear clawing at his spine. The beast lunged again, but Torren tackled it sideways.
Walliam grabbed the creature's crystal-covered head.
Agony flooded him.
Visions — a normal animal running through green woods, the sky splitting, purple fire raining down.
He pushed.
Light surged from his chest into the beast.
The violet glow flickered.
Faded.
With a final shudder, the crystal growths cracked and fell away like glass.
The creature collapsed, breathing shallow but alive — just a wolf now. Shaking. Terrified.
The forest slowly exhaled.
Elaris stared at Walliam. "You didn't kill it."
"I… couldn't," he said, voice unsteady.
Torren wiped sweat from his brow. "Great. So now we're healers of nightmare wolves. Love that for us."
Walliam looked toward the vast world ahead.
The sky cracks pulsed above.
The trees watched.
Something had changed.
Not just the world.
Him.
They made camp at the edge of the forest as the sun dipped low, painting the land gold.
Beyond the cliffs, the stars came out brighter.
And between them, faint glowing fractures stitched the night like scars.
Elaris sat close to the fire. "Still think leaving was the right choice?"
Torren tossed a stick into the flames. "Too late now."
Walliam watched the horizon.
For the first time, the world didn't feel like a story told to him.
It felt like a question.
And he was only beginning to understand the answer.