They told the warrior never to look into the Rift. That at the edge of the world, where the heavens bled into the unknown, something waited. A force no blade could cut, no spell could bind. But defiance is the heart of legend, and so the warrior climbed, drawn by the truth hidden in the sky.
And there it was.
A being not of flesh nor bound by time, but of the spaces in between. It did not speak, yet its presence whispered a singular truth: “You called me. Now face me.”
The warrior tightens their grip. The sword, chipped by a thousand years of silence, hums to life once more. The gods may have forsaken this battle, but the warrior has not.