The cavern was silent.
Not the sort of silence that accompanied emptiness. It felt heavy and unnatural — an in-breath, as the world held its breath.]
Asher sat at the foot of the enormous stone mouth, its slick surface decorated in luminous symbols that glowed like veins filled with light. Each of the scores was ancient and not like anything he'd ever encountered.
His fingers grazed the stone, and for a moment a sharp cold ignited up his spine.
A whisper, muffled and distance, lipped the air.
"Do not open it."
Asher's breath slowed. His instincts, sharpened from years of being an adventurer in his past life, told him one thing.
Whatever lay behind this door… it was not meant to be discovered.
A soft scraping sound came from behind him.
Asher pivoted, squeezing his grip on his combat knife.
Something lurked in the shadows, watching him.
It began as something instinctive — the prickly feeling on the back of his neck. Then a figure stepped out from the darkness beyond the cavern.
A cloaked man, with a hood that obscured all of his face except for his chin, stood in the edge of the faint light. His features were concealed behind a shadowed hood, but Asher could feel his eyes: as cold and ancient and unreadable as glacial waters.
"You don't belong here," said the stranger in a low rasp.
Asher's eyes narrowed. "And you do?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, he stepped closer, silently.
"You should not have come," the man said. "This is not a place you can understand."
Asher looked back toward the sealed door. "And yet, here you are. Standing in front of it."
The man went quiet for a second. Then—he sighed.
"A shame," he murmured. "You've already been marked."
Asher hadn't even had time to react when the air shifted around them.
The cavern darkened. It was as if even the light were being devoured, the very fabric of reality contorting.
And then—the door pulsed.
The archaic symbols burst, flaming a rich scarlet.
The sound was a low, vibrating hum in the air, and it grew louder as the markings on the stone continued to shift — as if they were alive.
Then—
BOOM.
The whole cavern shuddered violently, fractures racing across the walls.
The door was responding — but not to Asher.
It was responding to something different.
Or someone else.
Asher's eyes flicked to the hooded man. "What did you do?"
The man didn't move. He simply watched.
"It's not what I have done," he said.
"It's what you've already put in motion."
The ground under Asher split, causing him to step back. He felt worm air ripple around the door, a sonic wave pushing against him.
And then — the whispers came back.
But this time, it wasn't just faraway places.
They were inside his head.
"You… are… unworthy."
Asher's heartbeat pounded. He didn't know whether the words came from the door or something outside it.
But before he could react, that hooded man finally moved.
One moment he was by Asher's side, the next he stood before him.
Too fast.
Asher had little time to block as a thin, curved dagger sliced toward him.
He dodged—but not completely.
The blade caught his arm, the cold burn of it searing across his skin.
Not just a cut.
There was something in that blade.
Asher leapt backward, dropping into a crouch with his own knife raised. "The hell is your problem?"
The man's voice was eerily calm. A voice booms in your head: "You are marked by the Rift. You should not exist."
He tightened his grip on his dagger.
"I will do better."
Asher had battled monsters, hunters, beasts.
But this was different.
The hooded man flowed like a shadow, his strikes swift and punctuated. Each blow struck with murderous intent, intending to kill, not injure.
Asher leaped left, just avoiding a slash that would have cut his throat.
He replied — his knife lunging forward.
CLANG.
Their blades clashed, sparks bursting.
The impact sent Asher sliding backward, his boots dragging across the stone floor.
The stranger did not slow down.
And instantly he was atop Asher again, his dagger a whir of movement.
Too fast.
Too skilled.
Asher gritted his teeth. He had to change tactics.
He let go.
Not of his weapon.
But of restraint.
The energy that lived inside him, the power he'd seized from the Rift, pulsed to life.
And for the first time, he allowed it to freely move through him.
The world shifted.
His perception sharpened, time danced to a crawl.
The stranger's movements were not too fast now.
He could see them.
And he could counter them.
The next time the hooded man attacked —Asher acted first.
He ducked and rolled just in time, body turning as his knife ripped through the man's arm.
The hooded figure stumbled backward.
Not from pain.
From shock.
"You …" The man's voice had changed. A flicker of recognition.
Asher breathed out, rolling his shoulders. "Well, I guess I'm full of surprises."
The stranger didn't reply. He just stared at Asher, his eyes shrouded under the hood.
Then — without saying another word — he disappeared.
Gone.
Asher's knuckles whitened around his knife. He didn't know who — or what — that man was.
But one thing was clear.
The Rift had changed him.
And there were people out there who knew just what that means.
A deep rumble resounded through the cavern, pulling Asher's attention back to the barred door.
The glow had faded, but the symbols still pulsed weakly.
The whispers were fading… but not before one last message crept across his mind.
"You are not ready … but you will come again."
Then, silence.
Asher exhaled, stepping back. SHUT UPHe didn't know what was behind that door…
But whatever that had been, was waiting for him."
And next time, he'd be prepared.