The Beast Descends
The night was no longer night. The sky above the village split open, streaked crimson like a wound torn into heaven itself. The rift bled light that cast the world in a sickly glow. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the fields.
And then it came.
The Riftborn beast.
The ground shook as it emerged from the treeline, towering twice the height of the village walls. Its form was a grotesque blend of stone, shadow, and bone—its body jagged, almost half-formed, as though the world had failed to decide what shape it should take. Its mouth split unnaturally wide, teeth jagged shards glowing faintly red. Every step it took made the earth groan beneath its weight.
The villagers screamed, scrambling for safety, clutching children, abandoning their carts and homes. The air stank of fear and burning wood as torches sputtered and cracked.
Ryven and Nova stood at the front, weapons raised, sweat already beading on their foreheads.
Nova muttered under her breath, her blades gleaming faintly. "That… is bigger than the last one."
Ryven swallowed hard, forcing his grip to tighten on the staff despite the tremor in his fingers. His ribs still ached from the last battle. His shoulder burned where the Riftborn claws had raked him before. And yet there was no time to think of wounds.
The beast roared, a sound that was less an animal cry and more like a mountain splitting in two. Windows shattered from the sheer force of the vibration. The walls of the village groaned as dust rained from their tops.
"Spread out!" Ryven shouted, his voice raw. "Get the villagers out!"
Nova didn't hesitate. She darted forward, blades flashing in twin arcs of silver. She struck at its leg—fast, precise—but her blades only scraped sparks off its hardened hide. The Riftborn didn't even flinch.
"Too tough!" she spat, dodging back as its massive arm slammed down, pulverizing the ground where she had stood.
Ryven raised his staff, flame bursting to life around its head. He swung in a wide arc, sending a torrent of fire crashing against the monster's torso. The flames clung for a heartbeat, lighting the night in orange fury.
When the fire cleared, the beast still stood. Unharmed.
Ryven's heart sank.
The Riftborn's eyes burned crimson as it turned its attention toward him. Its maw twisted into something that almost resembled a grin. Then it moved—faster than its size should have allowed.
"Ryven!" Nova's warning came too late.
The beast's claw slashed downward. Ryven raised his staff, bracing it across his body. The impact rattled through his bones like thunder, knocking him backward. He crashed into the dirt, pain blooming across his ribs. His vision swam, but he forced himself to rise again.
The villagers' cries rang in his ears.
"Run!" someone screamed.
"It's going to kill us all!"
The Riftborn didn't give him time to recover. Its next step shook half the square, sending people tumbling. Roof tiles slid off homes, crashing onto the streets.
Ryven stumbled back, fire flaring in desperation. He struck again—blasts of flame, bursts of light. Each one lit the night sky brilliantly but vanished uselessly against the creature's thick, stone-like hide.
Nothing worked.
The Riftborn slammed its claw into a house, tearing through wood and stone as though it were cloth. A family inside screamed, their voices cutting like knives through Ryven's chest.
"No!" Ryven lunged, fire exploding from his staff. The blaze crashed against the Riftborn's arm, forcing it back just enough for the family to scramble free. The effort left his knees trembling.
He could feel it already—the shard inside him thrumming wildly, demanding more. Each breath he took seemed to stoke the flame within, but his body was struggling to keep up.
Nova appeared at his side, panting, blades slick with ichor from the smaller Riftborn she had cut down. Her face was pale, her breaths shallow, but her eyes were steady.
"Protect the villagers first. We can't let it tear through the homes."
Ryven's grip tightened on the staff. He nodded, though his throat was dry.
The Riftborn roared again, turning its full attention back on them. Its steps cracked stone, splintered wood, sent shockwaves through the ground. Each movement was destruction itself.
And as it advanced, Ryven understood a terrible truth.
This wasn't a fight they could win by endurance.
This was a fight for survival.
---
Battle for the Village
The Riftborn beast's roar split the night like thunder, vibrating through stone, soil, and bone alike. It wasn't just sound—it was a force, a command of fear that made even the bravest stagger. Windows rattled, livestock panicked in their pens, and the torches lining the walls guttered as if in dread.
The ground quaked beneath its charge, cobblestones cracking under its sheer weight. Each step was a hammerblow, tossing villagers from their feet and shaking dust from rooftops.
"Scatter!" Nova's voice ripped through the chaos, sharper than steel.
She was already moving, a blur of silver and black. Her blades caught what little torchlight remained as she intercepted a Riftborn lunging for a mother clutching her child. The creature's body split into smoke when her strike landed—yet from its unraveling form, three smaller shadows peeled away, skittering like spiders with too many limbs. Their crimson eyes fixed on the fleeing villagers, claws glinting.
"Damn it," Nova hissed, throwing herself between the swarm and the innocents.
At the village's edge, Ryven forced himself to stand. His lungs burned, his ribs ached, but none of that compared to the searing pulse inside him. The shard wasn't beating with his heart anymore—it was ahead of him, dragging him like a leash. His palms glowed, veins spiderwebbing crimson as the staff hummed with restrained fire.
Too much… I'll burn out before this ends.
The beast noticed him. Its gaze—glowing, unblinking—fixed on Ryven with a predator's patience. Then it moved. Its massive arm swung wide, claws like scythes carving through earth and stone.
Ryven reacted instinctively. He jammed the butt of his staff into the ground. Fire erupted in a towering wall, molten sparks spiraling upward in a storm. The Riftborn's strike slammed against it with a deafening crack. Embers scattered like meteors, burning holes into rooftops and singeing wooden carts.
The wall held—but only for a breath.
Then it shattered.
The explosion of force hurled Ryven off his feet. He slammed into a pile of crates with bone-jarring impact. Wood splintered, stabbing into his back as pain screamed through his ribs. His vision blurred, his breath stolen.
"Ryven!" Nova's voice tore through the haze, desperate, furious.
He staggered upright, gripping his staff like a crutch. His body screamed to stop, but the smaller Riftborn were everywhere now. They darted between buildings, claws scraping walls, knocking over barrels and scattering sparks. Their speed was inhuman—shadows made flesh, hunting without hesitation.
Villagers screamed as they ran, but most couldn't escape the swarm.
Nova was their only wall. She spun like a storm, blades whistling through the air. Every strike dissolved one shadow, yet ichor sprayed black across her face and arms, sizzling when it struck the dirt. For each she felled, more pressed in. Her breath grew ragged, her footwork slower, and still she fought, jaw clenched against exhaustion.
"Behind you!" Ryven roared.
She pivoted too late. A claw grazed her upper arm, tearing through leather and flesh. Blood welled instantly, dripping down her blade. Nova hissed, eyes narrowing with pain—but she did not falter. With a savage cry, she rammed her dagger through the creature's throat, ripping it apart in a spray of shadow.
Something inside Ryven snapped.
His fire surged, brighter than before, sharper than before. He swung wide, arcs of flame searing across the square. Shadows screamed as three Riftborn collapsed into smoke, their forms writhing before dissolving into nothing. The shard within him pulsed harder, faster—its hunger feeding on his fury.
More, it whispered. Always more.
But the largest Riftborn—the beast that had shattered his wall—hadn't slowed. It had only been watching, patient, deliberate. Its crimson eyes glowed brighter now, locked wholly onto Ryven as if he were the only soul that mattered.
It moved.
Houses crumbled before it. Timber shattered, walls collapsed, sparks lit fires as it plowed through homes without pause. The air filled with choking dust, raining plaster, and falling beams. Villagers screamed as their lives collapsed around them, scrambling over rubble to flee.
"Move!" Nova's hand clamped onto Ryven's arm. She yanked him away just before the monster's claw obliterated the ground where he'd stood. The impact shook the earth, splitting stone like glass.
Ryven coughed as the dust swirled, choking his lungs and stinging his eyes. Through the haze, he saw it—the massive silhouette. Unstoppable. Unrelenting. A walking calamity.
"We can't just keep dodging," he rasped, voice ragged. "We have to stop it here—or the village is finished!"
Nova's eyes narrowed. Blood ran freely down her arm now, dripping from her elbow. Her chest heaved with each breath, yet she stood firm. "Then we stand. No matter what."
The Riftborn reared back, claws raised high, its form blotting out the flickering torchlight like an eclipse. Around it, the swarm surged again, circling the two like wolves closing in for the kill.
Ryven tightened his grip on the staff, fire spiraling up its length in violent coils. His veins glowed crimson, his eyes reflecting the shard's fury.
Nova spun her blades, lowering into her stance. Her legs trembled, but her gaze never wavered.
The night itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then the beast came down, and the battle for the village truly began.