At dawn I rise to pursue the anomaly that tugged at me through the night. The sun is shy, half-hidden behind a haze of ochre. I trek north along shifting dunes, feeling the slow pull of gravity in my fingertips. The air itself seems charged, as if the very molecules of the desert hum around me.
By mid-morning, I reach a flat plain far from human eyes. Here the rift in the sky stretches above a circle of disturbed sand, glittering with faint, silvery lights. A narrow gap in the air wavers above the ground, edges blurred like smoke. Stars glint through it oddly, as if looking from a distant time or place.
I kneel in the warm sand and lay a hand on the ground. Earth magic and gravity coil together beneath me. Careful not to ripple the breach further, I extend my senses across the thin veil. Strange vibrations answer back -- as if the tear in the sky breathes. I wonder if it is a cry for help... or a warning.
For a long moment I sit still, breathing steady. The nomadic chants of my ancestors echo in my mind, reminding me to approach with humility. My role is not to conquer the unknown, but to heal what is frayed. Gently I thread my will around the rift like a silken band, trying to hold it steady.
Light flickers, and I catch a glimpse of something within: a starry corridor stretching across cosmic sea, and in its darkness... was that a shape? Or a reflection of my own wondering eyes? My heart hammers. The rift shivers when I brush it with empathy. Perhaps it is alive in its own way.
I hover between daring and fear. The weight of what I can do sits heavily on my mind. For now, the moment is enough: I sit on the sand, back straight, arms resting in my lap. I watch. The sky moves slowly overhead, oblivious to the strange secret at its feet.
Some answers will come later. There is balance to keep. For now I am content to simply be here, attuned to the void, a silent guardian on the fringe of dawn.