Tyler froze, his breath caught in his chest. The figure stepping from the rift was undeniably Amara—her face, her build, even the faint glow of her presence. But something was wrong. Her eyes burned an unnatural shade of black and gold, and a dark, pulsating aura surrounded her.
The keeper staggered backward, its energy dimming rapidly. "This… this is not possible. She was meant to be the anchor, the seal to stabilize the rift."
The dark Amara smirked, tilting her head as if amused by the keeper’s confusion. "Oh, I am the seal," she said, her voice layered with a chilling duality. "But you failed to realize that the rift doesn’t just take—it transforms. You sought balance, and here I am: the rift’s new guardian."
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Tyler’s mind raced. Was this really A
