The dawn that broke over the wasteland was unlike any other—neither golden nor soft, but sharp and cold, streaked with faint lines of energy that bled into the sky like glowing veins. The air hummed as though reality itself was recalibrating after the chaos within the Forge.
Arlen sat in silence, his back against a jagged boulder, the faint remnants of lightning still flickering across his fingers. Every breath came shallow and uneven, as if his lungs had forgotten how to breathe clean air. Beside him, Lira was silent, her eyes fixed on the faint pulse of light still lingering where the Forge once stood buried beneath sand and ruin.
Kaine broke the silence first. "That was not sealing," he muttered. "That was—"
"Containment," Arlen finished weakly. "Temporary, at best."
The older man nodded grimly. "Then whatever we fought… it's still out there."
Arlen said nothing. His mind was still half within that blinding moment—the surge of divine energy, the whisper that had called him Heir of the Riftlight. It felt like a memory and a warning both, and it burned behind his eyes every time he blinked.
Lira shifted closer to him, her tone gentler now. "You saved us, Arlen. Again."
He shook his head slowly. "I just delayed the inevitable."
Her gaze lingered on him for a long moment before she looked away, the faintest flush coloring her cheeks. "You always do that," she murmured.
"Do what?"
"Downplay everything. Even when you're bleeding lightning and freezing the world around you, you talk like it's nothing."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe it's easier that way."
The wind picked up then, carrying a low hum across the barren plain. It wasn't the ordinary rustle of wind against stone—it was rhythmic, pulsing, like a heartbeat beneath the surface of the world.
Rynel tensed. "Tell me that's not another Rift."
Kaine placed his palm on the ground, closing his eyes briefly. "No. Not a Rift." He frowned. "Something else. Something alive."
Before they could question further, the sand beneath their feet rippled outward, glowing faintly with golden veins of energy. The ground split open, revealing a network of tunnels beneath—each lined with symbols that pulsed in rhythm with that same heartbeat.
Arlen stared down, realization dawning. "Veins of Eternity," he whispered.
Lira frowned. "What does that mean?"
He looked up at her, eyes distant. "When I was connected to the Forge… I saw flashes. Visions of a structure beneath the world. These veins—they're part of it. They connect every Rift, every fragment of celestial power. They're… the world's arteries."
Rynel stepped back cautiously. "And if they're waking up?"
"Then the world's heart is beating again," Kaine said grimly.
The light grew brighter, forcing them to shield their eyes. When it dimmed, they found themselves standing at the edge of a colossal ravine. Deep below, rivers of golden light flowed like molten metal, illuminating what looked like ancient machinery—wheels, cogs, and crystalline conduits stretching as far as they could see.
Lira took a step forward, awe softening her voice. "This is beautiful."
Arlen didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on something else—a faint silhouette standing at the far end of the ravine, cloaked in white, motionless.
He froze. "No…"
"What is it?" Lira asked quickly.
Arlen's hand trembled slightly. "I've seen him before. In my dreams. In the Rift."
The figure turned its head, revealing eyes that glowed faintly gold. Its voice echoed across the ravine, calm and resonant.
> "Arlen Frostfire. The balance trembles. You sealed one wound, yet opened another."
The group tensed instantly. Rynel drew his bow, Kaine raised his staff. But Arlen lifted a hand. "Wait."
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure stepped closer, the air bending faintly around him. "A remnant," he said simply. "A shard of what you once were."
Arlen's breath caught. "You're one of the fragments."
"Yes. The fourth."
Lira's grip tightened around her weapon. "Then what do you want from him?"
The fragment's gaze shifted toward her, unreadable. "To remind him of what comes next."
The ground shuddered violently. The golden rivers below began to boil, casting waves of light skyward.
"Your awakening has consequences, Arlen Frostfire," the fragment continued. "Each piece you reclaim brings you closer to the truth—and closer to the destruction that truth commands."
Arlen's voice hardened. "Then tell me what I'm supposed to do."
"You can't stop what's coming," the fragment said, stepping forward until the air between them crackled. "But you can choose how it ends."
He extended a hand, and from his palm rose a sphere of condensed light, swirling like a miniature sun. "Take it. The fourth fragment. It will grant you knowledge… but it will cost you more than memory."
Arlen hesitated. He could feel the energy radiating from it, ancient and familiar, like the echo of his own heartbeat magnified a thousandfold. Lira reached out instinctively, as if to stop him. "Arlen, wait. You don't have to—"
He met her gaze and smiled faintly. "You said I always downplay everything. Maybe it's time I stop."
Then he reached forward.
The instant his fingers brushed the light, the world vanished.
He was standing in a storm—lightning and frost tearing the sky apart. Around him, countless figures bowed, each one radiating divine energy. At the center stood a throne of ice, upon which sat… himself. But not as he was now. Taller. Stronger. Eyes burning with cosmic fire.
The other Arlen rose from the throne and spoke, his voice layered with power.
> "The fragments return because the end draws near. Do not fear what you were—fear what you'll become if you let the world decide for you."
Arlen tried to speak, but the vision shattered like glass.
He fell to his knees, gasping, the sphere gone. The fragment was fading, its voice a whisper now. "You've chosen the harder path, Frostfire. The next fragment awaits where eternity bleeds."
Then it was gone.
Silence returned, broken only by the steady hum of the veins below.
Lira knelt beside him, eyes wide with concern. "Arlen, talk to me. What did you see?"
He looked at her, sweat trailing down his temple, his expression distant. "Everything… and nothing."
Kaine sighed heavily. "That doesn't sound comforting."
Arlen rose shakily to his feet, glancing once more toward the ravine. "We're not done here," he said softly. "The Veins are waking up. And so are the things buried inside them."
Lira frowned. "Things?"
He nodded slowly. "The ones who forged them. The ones who fell before us."
As they turned back toward the path home, the light beneath the world pulsed again—this time, in sync with Arlen's heartbeat.
And somewhere deep within those golden rivers, something immense stirred—a colossal shape moving beneath the light, its eyes opening for the first time in millennia.
The world trembled as if exhaling after a long sleep.
And far above, in the Vale Guild headquarters, the ancient runes embedded in the walls began to glow faintly—warning of the same awakening.
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