The breach pulsed like a second sun over the cliffs, a jagged wound carved in sky and space. Beneath it, the air smelled like lightning, stone, and the faintest whisper of memory. Soldiers posted along the perimeter kept their distance, their armor humming from residual Fold energy. No one dared get too close.
High on the ridge, Queen Mahri of the North sat astride her drake-beast, gaze fixed on the breach. Behind her, the rest of the council waited, restless and wary. Mira, elder of the Southern Spire, paced with a trembling staff. Beside her, Commander Thane clenched his gauntleted hands until the metal groaned.
"They've been in there too long," Mira whispered.
Mahri said nothing.
Below, instruments set up by the Rift scholars began to scream. Spinning dials spun off their moorings.
