Months have passed since we first set foot in the Coldmagia Tundra. It feels as if time has become irrelevant here, as though the tundra itself is stretching the minutes, the days, into an endless spiral of white nothingness. We haven't found the Rift. We haven't found any clues leading us closer. It's as if the land itself is hiding the truth from us, mocking our every step with the promise of discovery that never comes.
The snow falls relentlessly, a soft yet constant blanket that never ceases, even when the wind dies down. The wind, when it blows, tears at the skin, but its absence is almost worse. Silence stretches on for hours, days, the absence of sound making everything feel too suffocating, too real. There's no reprieve, no escape from this place. It's as if the tundra is alive, waiting to consume us. I feel it. I can see it in Kvatz's eyes, in Gaer's terse silence.
The mental strain is the worst part. The cold, the constant battle against hunger and exhaustion, they're physical challenges, something we can measure and fight against. But the mental toll... the way the silence grinds into your thoughts, the way the uncertainty gnaws at your mind—it's breaking us down, little by little.
It's not just the isolation, or the lack of progress. It's the fear that's starting to creep in, like a shadow behind me. Fear that the Rift might not be here at all. Fear that we've been walking toward something that doesn't even exist. That the tragedy I saw in my vision might be something I'm doomed to bring to life, something I can't escape, no matter how hard I try.
I've tried talking to Kvatz about it, but he doesn't understand. Or maybe he doesn't want to. His patience with me is wearing thin, and I can see the tension in the way he moves, the way he talks to me now. It's subtle at first, just the occasional cutting remark or the way he avoids looking at me when I speak. But now... now it's becoming something more. I can feel it in the air between us, thick and charged. Every word we exchange feels like it's wrapped in a layer of ice.
This morning, I woke to the sound of him shouting. He was cursing under his breath as he scraped at the snow with his hands, trying to find something—anything—that could pass for a trail. He doesn't like to admit it, but I know. He's starting to lose hope.
"Damn it!" Kvatz's voice cuts through the air like a knife. His boots crunch as he stands up, staring at the snow-covered expanse ahead of him. He looks back at me, his face flushed with frustration. "We've been walking in circles! There's nothing here, Lanni. This was a waste of time. I told you we should've gone south, tried the old roads, but you insisted. You thought this—this rift would be the answer. It's not."
I don't respond immediately, the words caught in my throat. I can feel my pulse quicken, my temper rising, but I force myself to stay calm. I won't let him see how much it's eating at me, how close I am to snapping myself. We're both exhausted. He doesn't understand, and I'm not sure I can explain.
"I'm not giving up, Kvatz," I say finally, my voice quieter than I intend, but steady. "We're this far, we can't turn back now. We have to keep looking."
He sneers at me, the bitter frustration clear on his face. "Keep looking? You've been saying that for months. Months, Lanni. What do you think we're going to find here? The rift? The Liturgy? This place is just... a wasteland. A graveyard. And we're stuck in it."
I flinch, but I don't back down. "I know this isn't easy," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "but we can't just give up. I saw it. I saw something back then. The mountain... the bodies... it has to mean something. I—"
"The mountain of corpses," Kvatz cuts me off, his words dripping with mockery. "You still believe that? You think that's going to be our future? That's just some vision. Nothing more."
I try not to let it get to me. He doesn't understand, he can't. He wasn't there in that moment, in that vision. He doesn't know how real it felt, how it burned into my mind like a brand.
"I don't know what it means yet," I mutter, my fingers tightening around the rifle at my side. "But I have to believe it means something. This isn't a waste, Kvatz. I can feel it. The Rift is here. It's close."
His laugh is short and bitter, like a bark of frustration. "You're losing it, Lanni," he says, his eyes flashing with anger. "This—this quest—it's destroying us. This place is destroying us."
There's a tense silence between us, the air thick with unspoken words. I see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his hands tremble just slightly. I don't think it's just the cold that's shaking him. It's the fear. It's the same fear that's gnawing at me. What if we never find it? What if everything we've done, everything we've sacrificed, was for nothing?
I turn away from him, unable to look him in the eye any longer. There's a strange, suffocating sense of helplessness in the pit of my stomach. The snow keeps falling, the wind keeps howling, and the weight of it all presses down harder and harder on my chest.
"Well, maybe we should—"
"Hey, you two. I think you should see this." I freeze, the words dying in my throat. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I can't breathe. The tension between Kvatz and me evaporates as quickly as it arrived, replaced by something else. Something heavier. Gaer's tone is different now, calm but urgent, and his words hang in the air, like a thin thread that might unravel at any moment.
I look over at Kvatz. His face, still flushed with anger, shifts to something more guarded, more cautious. Neither of us says anything, but we both know this is it. This could be the moment—the sign we've been waiting for, or the cruel joke this place has been playing on us all along.
Without waiting for a response, Gaer turns, his figure growing smaller as he climbs down the boulder with a fluid grace that seems out of place in this desolate, frozen land. The snow crunches beneath his boots, but his steps are measured, deliberate, like he's trying to preserve the last bit of calm between us.
We follow him in silence. The weight of the cold feels unbearable, like it's pressing against my chest with every step, squeezing the air from my lungs. I can feel my fingers twitching at my sides, itching for something—anything—that might make the uncertainty go away. My gaze is fixed on Gaer, his silhouette ahead, the faint tracks he leaves behind already disappearing in the snow. The landscape is vast and untouched, the world before us a blank canvas waiting to be marked.
Gaer doesn't speak again until we reach him. His eyes are fixed on the horizon, where the white expanse stretches on without end, but there's something different about his gaze now. Something sharp, alert.
"There," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he's afraid to disturb whatever it is that's ahead.
I follow his gaze, my pulse quickening, my mind racing. At first, I don't see anything. Just snow and more snow, a never-ending sea of white. But then, through the haze of blowing snow, something catches my eye. A dark shape. A shadow in the distance.
I squint, my heart hammering in my chest. It's hard to make out the details, but it's unmistakable. There's something there. A structure, perhaps? Or a figure, standing still against the harsh wind, unmoving.
I look back at Kvatz, who's staring ahead now too, his expression unreadable. He doesn't say anything, but I can feel the shift in him—the cautious hope that we might be on the edge of something real, something tangible.
"We've been walking for months," Kvatz mutters under his breath, his voice rough. "There's no way this is just another mirage, right?"
"I don't know," I reply quietly, feeling the weight of the words even as I say them. "But we can't turn back now."
We move forward again, this time with purpose, the tension thick in the air. The snow is falling harder now, swirling around us in a chaotic dance, and the cold begins to feel even more oppressive. The silence feels deeper, the stillness more unnerving. I can hear nothing but the crunch of our boots against the snow and the occasional gust of wind, but the world around us seems impossibly empty. Like we're the last living things in a world that's already been forgotten.
As we get closer, the shape begins to take form. It's not just a shadow anymore; it's a structure—a ruin, perhaps. A monument to something that once stood here, maybe long before the tundra became what it is now. I can feel a strange pressure in my chest, like the air is growing thicker, denser, as if the land itself is waiting for us to cross some unseen threshold.
When we reach it, I'm not sure what to expect, but I don't think it's this.
The ruin is ancient, weathered, and half-buried in snow. The structure is made of stone, black and jagged, covered in symbols and carvings that I don't recognize. They're unlike anything I've ever seen before—twisted patterns, lines that twist into shapes that defy understanding. It's as if the very architecture of the place is alive, shifting, changing as you look at it.
I take a step forward, feeling the ground beneath me shift with each movement. The stone is slick with ice, but it's firm underfoot. Gaer moves past me, his hands resting on the stone as he examines the markings, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"This... this is something else," he murmurs, almost to himself. "I've never seen anything like this before."
I move closer, drawn to the stone like it's pulling me in. The markings seem to pulse under my fingertips as I touch them, and I feel a jolt of something—something not entirely real, like my hand is passing through a veil. A flash of heat, a spark of power, and then it's gone.
"Lanni?" Kvatz's voice cuts through the fog in my mind. I turn to see him watching me, his expression guarded, but I can tell he's just as unsettled as I am.
"I... I felt something," I say, though the words sound almost silly in the moment. I don't know what it was—just a feeling, a tremor in the air. But it was there, unmistakable.
"We need to be careful," Gaer warns, his voice low. "There's something here. Something that shouldn't be."
The air is still, unnervingly so. The wind has died completely now, and the world around us is too quiet. No birds, no animals. Not even the hum of the wind to break the silence. It's as though the world has stopped turning, holding its breath, waiting.
Then, I see it.
At first, it's just a flicker in the corner of my vision—a movement, a shadow. But when I turn to look, there's nothing there. I shake my head, brushing it off, but the feeling remains. It's as though the land itself is watching us, listening to every step we take.
I feel it again. A pull. A whisper in the back of my mind.
It's coming.
The vision, the one I had back in the tundra, rushes back to me in an instant—the mountain of corpses, the faces of the fallen, the endless stretch of death. And then, like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place, I realize—this is it. This ruin, this place, it's the key. The tragedy I saw, the one I've been running from, is already here. It's unfolding before me.
The silence stretches between us like a thin wire, taut and trembling. I can feel the weight of the past, of the future, all pressing in at once. And I know—this is it. We've found it. But we might not be able to leave.
The stone under my fingers feels cold, too cold, like the chill of a grave. As I trace the strange markings, they seem to pulse, flickering, just out of reach of my understanding. I can feel them tugging at something inside me, something ancient, something primal. It's as if the very air around us is alive, breathing, waiting for something to happen. And that feeling—that pressure in the pit of my stomach—it only grows stronger the longer we stand here.
The others are silent now, watching me, waiting for something to change. I can feel their eyes on me, their tension hanging in the air like the threat of a storm. But I can't look away from the stone, from the markings. They draw me in like a moth to a flame, each swirl of their design sinking deeper into my mind, their meaning slipping through my fingers like sand.
I can hear my heart beating in my ears, a steady thrum that's almost too loud. The wind is gone, leaving only the crunch of snow beneath our feet and the occasional distant creak of the earth settling. Everything feels... off. Unnaturally still. I have the strangest sensation that we are being watched—not by anything human, but by something older. Something that has been here for far longer than any of us could possibly understand.
And then, there's a shift.
It's subtle at first, like the air itself is thickening. I feel a prickling at the back of my neck, a creeping sensation that crawls down my spine. My breath catches in my throat. A shadow passes over me—no, not a shadow. It's more like a presence, something dark and oppressive that brushes against my skin. It's in the air now, and it's almost too much to bear.
"What is it, Lanni?" Kvatz's voice is sharp, his words breaking the silence like a whip crack. But I don't answer him, not immediately. I can't.
I pull my hand away from the stone, wiping the strange warmth that has gathered on my fingers, though it makes no sense. The stone should be freezing, should have numbed my skin, but it hasn't. It's as if the stone itself is alive, pulsing with an energy that I can't comprehend. I glance up at Kvatz, and his face is hard, unreadable, but there's a flicker of something behind his eyes—fear, maybe. Or doubt. He's scared, I can see that now, but he's hiding it. And I can't blame him.
Gaer steps closer, his eyes flicking from the stone to me. "Lanni, what did you feel?"
I swallow, trying to find the words, but they're stuck in my throat, lodged somewhere deep in my chest. I can't explain what I'm feeling—not to them. Not to anyone. They wouldn't understand.
"I don't know," I finally manage, my voice thin and strained. "It's... I felt something, but I can't explain it."
It's not enough. I know it's not enough. They won't believe me. I'm not sure I believe myself.
"Lanni, we need to go," Kvatz says, his voice quieter now, more insistent. His eyes are darting around, scanning the horizon. His unease is palpable, and I can feel the tension building between us again, thick and suffocating.
But I don't move. I can't. Something is holding me here, something I don't understand, but that I can't shake off. It's like the ground beneath me is alive, like it's trying to tell me something. I can feel it in my bones, in the marrow, in the air. There's a truth here, buried deep, and it's waiting for us to uncover it. Or perhaps it's waiting for us to fall into it. Either way, I can't leave—not yet.
"I think..." I start, but my voice falters as the words get stuck in my throat. My hands are trembling, but I can't stop them. "I think it's here. The Rift. The place we've been looking for. It's right under our feet."
Kvatz doesn't respond right away. I can hear the rustle of his clothing as he shifts, the soft exhale of his breath as he processes what I've said. When he finally speaks, his voice is cold, distant, like he's already moving past this place in his mind.
"You're sure?" Gaer asks, his voice more grounded now, more steady. But there's an edge of doubt in it. He's not convinced. Not entirely.
"I—" I pause, taking a breath. The words are heavier now, like they're dragging me down. "I don't know. I can't be sure. But I think it is. I think this is it."
Kvatz looks at me, his eyes narrowing. "You've been saying that for months. You've been hoping it's here, but we've found nothing. This place—this tundra—it's a graveyard. A wasteland. And the longer we stay, the more I'm convinced that we're wasting our time."
I shake my head, the words sharp against the air. "I'm not wasting time. I'm looking for something. I'm not giving up."
There's a long pause, and then Gaer steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. It's an unexpected gesture, one I hadn't anticipated. His touch is cold, but his grip is steady. His eyes are calm, but there's something else in them now—a flicker of understanding, maybe. Or maybe he's just as lost as I am, just as caught in the grip of this place.
"Maybe it's time to stop," he says softly, his voice carrying a quiet weight. "Maybe it's time to face what this place is. What we are."
I want to protest, to push back, but the words die in my mouth. Instead, I look back at the ruin, at the stone and the carvings, at the pulsing, hidden energy beneath our feet. I don't know if it's the Rift. I don't know if it's the key to everything we've been searching for. But I feel it. I feel it in my chest, in my soul. Something is about to break open. Something is on the edge of snapping, and I don't know if we're ready for it. But we don't have a choice now.
"We're not leaving," I whisper, my words carrying a finality that surprises me. "We're going to stay. We're going to find out what's here. What's been hidden. I don't care what it takes."
Kvatz doesn't say anything to that. He just stares at me, his eyes burning with something dark and unspoken. There's no more argument in him, at least not in that moment. But I know—he's beginning to doubt. The cracks are starting to show.
I don't know how much time has passed since we stood before that stone, its carvings pulsing with some strange energy. Time doesn't seem to have any meaning in this place, not anymore. Everything feels warped, distorted, like reality itself is being bent, pulled apart at the seams. It's as if we've slipped into something else—something far darker and more treacherous than the tundra could ever be.
One moment, I was standing there, my hands trembling, the weight of the world pressing down on me. The next, the earth beneath our feet shuddered. The stone, the ground, the very air—it all seemed to warp and twist, stretching like it was being torn apart. A sudden, deafening crack echoed through the space, and then the world shifted.
The air went cold, colder than it had ever been, colder than the tundra itself. I could hear nothing, only a strange ringing in my ears, like a distant hum. Then, the world snapped back into place—except it wasn't the world I knew. Everything was wrong. The sky above us was a sickly shade of green, swirling with dark clouds, and the ground beneath us was slick with black, oily water. The landscape was nothing like the tundra we had walked through. This place—this thing—was alien. There were no mountains, no trees, no snow. Just... emptiness, stretching out in every direction, broken only by jagged shards of stone that jutted from the ground like twisted, broken teeth.
We're not in the Coldmagia Tundra anymore.
I look around, my heart hammering in my chest. My breath comes in ragged bursts, but even that doesn't feel real. My surroundings are... too still. Too quiet. No wind, no sounds of nature—just silence, and an overwhelming sense that something is watching us. Something waiting for us to make a move, to slip, to fall.
"What the hell is this?" Kvatz's voice is hoarse, barely a whisper, as if the sheer wrongness of the place has stolen his ability to speak.
I glance toward him. His face is pale, his eyes wide and alert, flicking from one strange feature of the landscape to the next. He looks like he's just barely holding it together. I can't blame him. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to hold on either.
But Gaer... Gaer is standing still, his face a blank mask. I can't tell what he's thinking. I've never seen him look so... distant. He's staring at the horizon, at nothing, as if he's waiting for something—something I can't see. His silence unsettles me more than anything else.
"Stay close," I say, my voice tight. I don't know why, but the thought of separating from them is terrifying. I have to hold on to something real, something familiar, before I lose myself completely.
But the instant the words leave my mouth, everything around us begins to shift again. The ground trembles under our feet, and the sky overhead ripples like it's made of liquid. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself, but when I open them again, the landscape is different.
A road appears in front of us, stretching endlessly into the horizon. It's a wide, cobbled path, one I recognize, though I've never seen it before. It's the road that leads to my home—a place I left behind long ago. The trees lining the road are just as I remember them, the sky above just as blue, the sun warm and welcoming. It's too perfect. Too familiar.
I reach out instinctively, but as my fingers brush the air, the image flickers. The colors bleed, like wet paint running down a canvas. And then, just as suddenly, the road is gone, replaced by a dense fog that creeps across the ground like a living thing. The trees vanish, the sky darkens, and the temperature drops—too quickly, too violently. I can't breathe, can't think, can't—
"Lanni?" Kvatz's voice is sharp, and I realize I've been standing frozen, my mind lost in the illusion. I shake my head, trying to clear the fog from my thoughts. This isn't real. None of this is real.
"Stay with me," I whisper, more to myself than to him. "We can't let the illusions take hold."
But even as I say it, I'm not sure I believe myself.
I turn to look at Gaer, but he's gone. The space where he stood is empty, swallowed up by the fog. My breath catches, and panic claws at my chest. Not Gaer. Not now.
"Gaer?" My voice is louder this time, but it echoes back to me, bouncing off the walls of a void that doesn't seem to have an end. No response.
I move forward, the ground beneath me slick and treacherous, my boots slipping with every step. "Gaer!" I shout again, but the only thing I hear is the hollow sound of my own voice. The silence presses in on me, smothering.
And then, out of the fog, he steps forward.
Gaer. But he's different. His eyes are empty, hollow, like he's no longer the person I know. His skin is pale, as though drained of all life, and his clothes are tattered, torn as if he's been wandering here for years. He doesn't speak. He just looks at me, his face emotionless.
"Gaer?" My voice shakes, and I take a step back, the ground beneath my feet cracking with each movement. "What's happening? Where are we?"
He doesn't respond. Instead, he just points behind me, his hand shaking slightly. I don't want to look. I don't want to see what's behind me. But I can't help myself. My body moves on its own, and I turn.
And I wish I hadn't.
The landscape has changed again. A city looms in the distance—my city. My home. But it's burning. The flames lick the sky, the buildings crumble into ruins, and the streets are filled with the bodies of the dead. I can hear their screams, the crackling of fire, the sound of destruction. I see myself in the center of it all—standing atop a mountain of corpses, my face twisted in grief and rage.
I freeze, unable to move. My chest tightens, the air rushing from my lungs as I take in the horrific sight. This... this is the vision. The one I saw before. The one I knew was coming.
And now, it's here. It's happening.
The world around me is shifting again, the reality warping like smoke. I hear Kvatz's voice, distant and faint, calling my name, but it's drowned out by the sound of the flames. The nightmare has taken hold. The rift, whatever it is, has trapped us here in this place of illusions, this pocket dimension where the line between truth and lies is so thin that it's impossible to tell what's real anymore.
I feel myself slipping. My mind is being pulled apart by the weight of it. The visions, the nightmares, they're too much. I can't tell what's true. What's real.
And I'm afraid... I'm afraid that if I can't hold on, if I can't stay grounded, I'll be lost in this place forever.
I have to fight. I have to keep fighting, for myself, for Kvatz, for Gaer. We can't let this place consume us. We can't let the illusions win.
But the more I try to hold on, the more the shadows seem to close in, swallowing everything. And the weight of that tragedy—that future—it hangs over me, closer than ever.
The air grows heavier with each passing moment. I can feel it now, pressing against my chest, suffocating me. The fog that surrounds us swirls like smoke, and though my eyes dart from one place to another, nothing seems real. Nothing stays still for long enough to make sense of it. Every step I take feels like I'm wading through something unseen, something thick and suffocating. The very ground beneath my feet feels wrong, shifting and buckling, as if it, too, is trying to pull me under.
I'm searching for Gaer, but I already know—I already know—he's lost. He's gone, swallowed by whatever force this place is. The last time I saw him, he was there in the distance, standing as if frozen, his eyes empty and vacant. There was nothing of the Gaer I knew. Nothing of the person who fought beside me, bled beside me, laughed with me in our fleeting moments of calm.
And now, there's only silence. Only this thick, choking void.
I reach out again, my fingers trembling, the icy cold of this pocket dimension seeping into my bones. It's too much. I can't breathe. I need to focus. I need to find a way back, a way to escape. But no matter how hard I look, no matter how many times I turn, Gaer is nowhere. I can't feel him anymore. It's like he was never there.
I don't want to believe it. I refuse to. But deep down, something inside me whispers that he's already been consumed—by the rift, by whatever force has twisted this place into something not real. Something worse.
I swallow hard, trying to clear my head, trying to calm the rising panic. But that's when I hear it—the sound of footsteps. Heavy, deliberate steps crunching through the thick fog. I turn, and there's Kvatz.
At first, I think I've imagined it, some trick of the mind. But no. He's really there. His silhouette is outlined against the murky glow of the distant, shifting landscape. But something's wrong. I can feel it. I can feel it in my gut, twisting and turning like a sharp knife. Kvatz's eyes—there's no life in them, only that dull, dead reflection of someone who's not him.
"Kvatz?" My voice is tight with fear, but I push it down. This is real. He's here. He's with me.
He doesn't respond at first, and I take a hesitant step toward him. "Kvatz," I repeat, my voice breaking through the silence like glass. "Where's Gaer? What's happening? Are you—"
His head jerks toward me, and there's something wrong with his face. His lips are pulled back in a grimace, his skin pale, the tension in his jaw making his whole face seem unnatural.
And then he speaks, but it's not his voice. It's… distorted, hollow, like something trying to mimic him but failing, badly.
"You don't belong here." The words drip out, thick and coated with venom, but there's no real malice in them—just a raw, aching emptiness.
I take another step forward, my hands outstretched in what I hope is a comforting gesture, but he flinches away, his eyes narrowing, locking onto mine with a piercing intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat.
"Kvatz, stop. It's me. It's Lanni. Please…"
But his eyes… they don't see me anymore. The way he looks at me—it's like he's seeing someone else. Someone before. And that's when I realize—he doesn't recognize me. Not fully. Not anymore.
I see flashes in his eyes. Memories. The distant past. I hear faint echoes of voices I don't recognize—whispers of laughter, the crackle of a fire. It's all fading fast, too fast, like sand slipping through my fingers.
"No," he growls, his voice cracking, rising with raw emotion. "No, you're not her. You're not her!"
The weight of his words hits me like a punch to the gut. I take another step back, trying to make sense of what's happening, of what he's saying. But I can't. I can't understand him. I can't understand this.
"Kvatz, please," I plead, but my words are nothing but a faint tremor in the thickening air. "I don't know what's happening, but I'm here. I'm still here. I'm Lanni."
He's shaking now, his hands clenched into fists, his whole body taut with anger, with something darker than I've ever seen in him. It's not rage, not entirely. It's grief, something deeper than I thought he could feel. He's drowning in it. Drowning in loss.
"No!" he shouts, his voice raw, cutting through the fog like a blade. "You… You killed her!"
And suddenly, it clicks. I see the way his eyes flicker, the tremor in his hands, the deep well of pain that's spreading through him like wildfire. He's not seeing me anymore. He's seeing the past—the face of someone who's long gone. Someone he loved. Someone he lost.
I try to reach for him, but he steps back, his breath quickening, his whole body shaking. He's not in control anymore. The rift—this twisted place—it's dragging him under, pulling him into his memories, his emotions. And now… now I see it.
Kvatz isn't fighting to protect me anymore. He's fighting to survive, to hold onto the person he once knew. To kill the person standing in front of him. Me.
"You're not her!" he screams again, his voice thick with pain, the words laced with an unbearable sorrow. His hands fly toward me, trembling, desperate, but the power behind his movement—his intention—it's real.
In that moment, I know. I know I have to stop him. I have to make the choice that's been hanging over me since we first stepped into this nightmare.
I don't want to. I can't want to. But I have no choice.
I try to dodge, but his hands reach out faster than I expect, grabbing for my throat. I stagger back, my heart pounding in my chest, but I can't breathe. His grip tightens, and the world tilts. Everything is spinning. His face—his eyes—they're wild, desperate.
And I realize—this isn't him anymore. Not the Kvatz I knew. He's been swallowed by his grief, by this place, by the memories that the rift has forced upon him. He's no longer the friend I once fought beside. He's a stranger. A dangerous one.
I fight back. I claw at his hands, trying to break free, but my strength is fading, the world narrowing around me. The air is thick with tension, suffocating, pushing me closer to the edge.
And then it happens.
In a final, desperate attempt to free myself, my hands grasp the hilt of my knife, and I plunge it into his side.
Kvatz's eyes widen in shock, pain flitting across his features before they go blank. His grip loosens, and his body crumples, falling to the ground at my feet. My chest heaves with ragged breaths, my heart pounding in my ears, but I can't look away. I can't look at what I've done.
I didn't want this. I never wanted this. But in the end, there was no other choice.
And as Kvatz lies motionless, blood seeping into the ground, I stand there trembling, staring at Kvatz's lifeless body. The wind cuts through me, biting at my skin, but it's nothing compared to the numbness that grips my chest. My hands are slick with his blood, and the warmth of it makes me want to scream, to run, to do something—anything—but nothing comes. Not anymore.
I sink to my knees, the ground beneath me hard and unyielding. The soil is untouched, pristine, except for the blood pooling around Kvatz's body. I don't know how long I stay there, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my mind completely empty. What have I done?
The question echoes in the hollow silence of my mind, but there's no answer. Nothing. I don't know where I am anymore. I don't know what's real.
Then, something strange happens.
The fog around me begins to shimmer, like a veil being pulled back. The air changes, and the ground beneath me shifts. My head spins, the world tilting in a way that shouldn't be possible. And then, in an instant—everything vanishes.
One moment, I'm kneeling over Kvatz's body, drowning in the weight of what I've done, and the next, I'm... back.
Back in the Coldmagia Tundra.
The wind howls, colder than ever, biting into my exposed skin like a thousand needles. The snow stretches out before me, endless and barren, the horizon a blur of white and gray. The trees around me are dead, their branches twisted and gnarled, reaching out like skeletal fingers. The world feels the same as it always has—the unforgiving cold, the silence, the isolation.
Except, it's wrong. It's all wrong.
I can feel it, deep down in the pit of my stomach. The weight of what's missing. The two figures that should be beside me—Kvatz and Gaer—they're gone. There's no sign of them, no trace that they were ever here at all.
I stand there, the wind tugging at my clothes, my body trembling from more than just the cold. It's like the world has forgotten. It's as if nothing happened. As if everything, every terrible moment, was some cruel illusion, a nightmare that never truly existed.
But I know it did.
The blood on my hands tells me it did.
I lift my hands to my face, wiping at my eyes, but the tears keep coming. They blur my vision, making everything even more distant, more unreal.
Why are you crying? The voice in my head is faint, like a whisper from somewhere far away, somewhere I can't quite reach.
It was only you. Only you left. There's no one else to blame.
I feel a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me, like a twisted, sick joke. It's not a real laugh. Not in the way a person laughs when something is funny. It's jagged and broken, filled with something darker. Something hollow. I can feel it tearing at me, pulling my chest apart.
I laugh again, louder this time.
And then it all unravels. The sound comes out of me in a rush, sharp and uncontrollable. I clutch my stomach as if I could hold it in, but I can't. I can't stop the laughter, the horrible, desperate laughter that tears through me, shaking my body with its intensity.
At first, it's a low chuckle, like a breath escaping a cracked shell. Then, it's a giggle, light and airy, but laced with something so wrong that it chills me to the bone. My head tilts back, and I laugh harder, almost manic, like I'm losing myself, like my mind is breaking apart piece by piece.
This is insane. This is insanity.
I'm not sure how long I stay there, in the snow, with the sound of my own madness filling the empty Tundra. It stretches on, relentless, until my throat is raw and my body shakes with exhaustion. But the laughter doesn't stop. It's all I can hear. It's all I am now.
Eventually, the laugh falters, like a broken record that can't keep playing. The air is still, quiet again, and I'm left in the aftermath of it all, breathless, trembling, my mind a blur of fractured thoughts. I could cry. I could scream. But all I can do is feel the emptiness inside me, the gnawing void where something—someone—used to be.
I glance down at my hands, the blood staining my palms, thick and dark. The same blood that once belonged to Kvatz. The same blood that now clings to me like a permanent mark. There's no going back. No fixing what's been broken.
I want to fall to the ground, to let myself sink into the snow and disappear, but I can't. I can't. Because somewhere, deep inside me, I know that if I do, if I give in to the overwhelming weight of what I've done, I won't come back. And that… that is the most terrifying thing of all.
I take a shaky step forward, my legs unsteady beneath me. I don't know where I'm going, only that I can't stay here. Not like this. Not in this place where nothing feels real, where the blood of a friend stains my soul, and the ghosts of my actions haunt me at every turn.
But it's all I can do. One step. Then another.
The Coldmagia Tundra stretches out before me, endless and cold. And though the wind howls, though the snow bites at my skin, I keep walking. Because there's nowhere else left for me to go.
And somewhere, beneath the howling winds, beneath the laughter and the madness, I hear a whisper.
You're alone now, Lanni.
And I know it's true. I'm truly, horribly, alone.
And it's all my fault.