The blinding cascade of light and sound vanished, leaving behind an oppressive silence that pressed in on me from every angle. My boots struck solid ground—uneven, cold—and the impact sent a sharp tremor up my legs, jarring my already-raw nerves. My body ached as though I’d been hurled across a dozen battlefields, yet my mind clung to an edge of clarity, refusing to let the pain drag it under. Each breath I took came with difficulty, my lungs protesting the sudden shift in environment, the clean dryness of the Ashen Expanse replaced by something thicker and more saturated. Dust billowed around me in lazy spirals, curling in the weak light and stinging my throat when I exhaled through clenched teeth.
The force of my arrival had torn away any remnants of composure I had left, leaving me momentarily dazed. A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes, and a faint ringing in my ears told me I’d pushed my mana reserves far beyond their limits. The transition had been brutal. It felt as though I’d been squeezed through a crack in the world, spat out on the other side with little regard for the state of my bones or my dignity. But as the echoes of pain rippled across my body, I forced my senses to sharpen. There was no time for weakness, not anymore.
This was not the Ashen Expanse.
The air here was damp. Heavy, almost, laced with the scent of ancient stone, stagnant water, and a subtle undertone of decaying vegetation. Already I could feel a light sheen of moisture forming along the edges of my coat, a stark reminder that the dryness and swirling dust storms of that lifeless plane were behind me. My eyes flickered around the darkness, picking out the walls of an enclosed chamber—perhaps a corridor or a large antechamber, I couldn’t be certain yet. The angles and shadows were deceptive, everything tinged in a faint, bluish glow.
That faint luminescence came from runes carved into the stone, spaced at uneven intervals. My eyes landed on the nearest cluster, their lines reminiscent of the anchor scripts I’d used to rip open reality and force my way back. The shapes pulsed gently, as if breathing in tandem with the realm around me. It felt intentional, not some random scrawl left by a curious mage. These runes had purpose, deeply ingrained in whatever this structure used to be.
I took an experimental breath, letting my gaze wander slowly. No immediate threats, no signs of occupant life, just that swirling gloom and the occasional drip of water in the distance. My limbs felt numb, my muscles leaden, but my instincts thrummed with alertness. Something was off here—my forced passage through the rift hadn’t placed me in a location of my choosing. It never did. The Tapestry rarely honored mortal intent so neatly. If I had emerged here, in this specific ruin, then the place had significance. The Tapestry didn’t traffic in accidents.
A faint vibration kissed the soles of my boots. Not an earthquake, exactly, but a subtle tremor that suggested a living magic resided in the stone. My mana was dangerously low, a sputtering candle in a howling wind, but I could still sense it. I curled my fingers against my palm, testing my reflexes. My entire body protested, as if every muscle had been pulled taut for too long. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stand taller. The pain wouldn’t kill me, not yet. I had survived far worse.
The gloom receded slightly as my vision adjusted. I could make out more details: pillars standing guard along the sides of the chamber, their surfaces etched with the same arcane script. Some had crumbled, leaving only jagged stumps and piles of rubble. The ceiling arched overhead, disappearing into blackness that not even the runes could illuminate. Water dripped somewhere out of sight, a slow, rhythmic pattern that felt disconcertingly like a clock ticking down.
I took a careful step forward, and the stones beneath me groaned softly. It was as though this place had grown unused to visitors, complaining at my intrusion. My boots scraped over dust and scattered debris—bits of chipped stone, maybe even fragments of bone, though I didn’t linger on that possibility. Each measured footfall sent a whisper of sound echoing through the still air, a reminder that I was very much alone.
Or so I’d assumed.
My mana sense was limited, but my instincts had never left me. I felt it: a presence lurking within the walls of this structure. I couldn’t pinpoint its location, only that it was near, watching with a caution that matched my own. I kept my eyes forward, posture seemingly relaxed, but my mind churned with vigilance. If it attacked, I’d have no choice but to rely on steel and cunning. I doubted my ravaged reserves could sustain more than a weak defensive spell if it came to a direct confrontation.
It made me recall the illusions I’d fought in the Ashen Expanse—shadowy creatures howling for my blood. This was different, though. The oppressive hush was too thick, too meditative. Something here wanted to observe first, to measure me. That indicated a measure of intelligence I couldn’t ignore. A foolish creature would have rushed in blindly.
The air stirred behind me, a bare whisper of movement. I didn’t spin. Instead, I let my gaze shift, my peripheral vision straining to catch the flicker of shadow that moved too quickly to be natural. It vanished into the gloom, silent as a phantom. My heart pounded once, a reminder that caution was my lifeline. If I misjudged this presence, it could spell my end.
I took another step forward, letting my coat settle around me, the battered fabric weighed down by grime and exhaustion. Focus, Draven. You need to focus. The question of where I was, or how I’d come here, demanded an answer soon. But I’d never been one to rush headlong into unknown territory without gathering a shred of information first.
That’s when I heard it: the faintest swish of fabric on stone, an almost shy approach from a different direction. Not from the presence in the walls, but from something else entirely—a second presence. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. This one was more tangible, I sensed. I paused, listening. Footsteps, light and measured. Not the unsteady footfalls of an injured stray, nor the frantic scurry of a cornered animal. This was deliberate. Controlled. Someone was approaching, and they weren’t bothering to mask their arrival completely.
Good. Let them come. My right hand twitched near my sword hilt, but I kept it sheathed. Time to see who shared this forsaken ruin with me. In the hush, I could just hear a steady breath, or maybe it was the echo of my own. The gloom thickened around me, but my vision sharpened. My battered senses tried to catch every hint: the pattern of footsteps, the subtle shift in air currents.
Then he spoke, his tone calm but edged with a wariness that told me he was no fool.
"You shouldn’t be here."
The voice was close enough to carry across the wide chamber, but he didn’t sound panicked. Wary, yes. Surprised, perhaps. But not afraid. Interesting. I considered the implications: had he seen the rift deposit me here? Possibly. Or he might have felt the surge of magic. My forced entrance was anything but subtle.
A swirl of dust drifted between us, and though I couldn’t yet see him clearly, I could make out a silhouette—a lean figure, standing near one of the runic pillars. He held himself with the posture of someone prepared to move at an instant’s notice, likely trained in combat or at least survival. His features remained obscured by shadow, except for the faint glint of his eyes reflecting the runic glow. I didn’t respond immediately, letting a moment of charged silence fill the space between us.
My muscles tensed, but I schooled my expression into neutrality. Show no weakness, let him see nothing but cold assurance. My breath steadied, slow and measured. Even in my exhausted state, I refused to reveal it. I let that tension simmer, forcing him to fill the gap, or to doubt his vantage. Let him wonder if I were a threat worth calculating. Let him suspect me of lethal capability. A mind that is uncertain can be manipulated.
He inhaled, perhaps bracing himself. "I said, you shouldn’t be here." A little louder this time, maybe a fraction less sure of himself as the silence stretched.
It took no effort to imagine the question swirling in his mind: How had I survived a rift? How did I end up in these ruins, apparently unscathed? If he had the slightest knowledge of the Tapestry or how violently a rift could tear a person apart, that would only magnify his curiosity. Curiosity was good, so long as it didn’t morph into reckless aggression.
Experience tales at freewebnovel
At length, I decided to respond, letting my voice slice through the silence. "Neither should you."
Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.