Rhyker’s POV
The rift ripped open before me, the air around it crackling with raw power. I could feel it, that unholy pull in my chest.
The relic in my hand pulsed with a malevolent energy, sending ripples through the air. It was a chasm that tore apart everything around it—space, time, reason.
The walls groaned and stretched, the passage twisting in unnatural angles. It's as if the world itself was screaming in pain.
But it's not the world I'm focused on now. It was her. Lyra.
Her face flickered in the rift, her image fractured and wavering like a mirage.
Her eyes locked onto mine, but there was no relief, no salvation. Just terror. She reached out to me, her hand pressed against the invisible barrier, her lips moving—begging, pleading, but the words were lost in the void.
She
