Draven:

  Elias led me through the quieter streets, away from the market’s noise, away from prying ears.

  I followed in silence, the weight of his urgency pressing against my ribs. I wasn’t sure if I was walking willingly or if I was just too exhausted to resist.

  Finally, he stopped.

  The alley was narrow, walled by aged stone and overgrown ivy, tucked just out of sight from the main road.

  Elias turned to face me. His expression was unreadable, but something in his gaze was heavier than before.

  "You need to leave Evermere," he said.

  The words landed like a cold blade against my skin.

  I stared at him. "What?"

  He exhaled, slow and measured. "The balance is shifting, Draven. You being here is making it worse."

  My pulse hammered, but I forced my voice steady. "You said nothing had happened yet."

  "It hasn’t," he admitted. "Not fully. But the cost is becoming clear." He held my gaze. "Balance isn’t just about order. It’s about price."

  Something in my stomach twisted.

  "What price?" I asked.

  Elias didn’t answer right away. He studied me, as if deciding whether to say the words aloud. Then, finally—

  "A life."

  The alley suddenly felt smaller.

  I shook my head. "That’s—" My throat tightened. "You’re saying my presence demands someone—"anyone"—to die?"

  Elias didn’t look away. "Yes."

  The silence between us turned suffocating.

  I forced myself to breathe, even as my chest felt hollow. My hands clenched at my sides. "And you think the only way to stop it is for me to leave."

  His expression remained calm, but something in his voice softened. "If you stay, Evermere will take what it needs."

  I swallowed hard.

  A cold certainty settled deep in my bones.

  I had known something was wrong. I had felt it creeping at the edges of my mind for weeks, maybe longer. But hearing it aloud—hearing that someone else would pay the price for it—

  It was too much.

  Elias straightened. "You need to decide. Soon."

  I didn’t move.

  Didn’t speak.

  I just stood there, my mind caught between denial and the weight of the inevitable.

  The alley felt suffocating.

  Elias stood before me, composed as ever, waiting for something—an answer, a reaction, a decision I hadn’t made yet.

  The weight of his words coiled around my ribs, squeezing tight. A life. A price. Leave, or someone else will pay it.

  My hands curled into fists.

  I could feel it now. The same pressure that had been building for days, for years, pressing against my skin, buzzing beneath my bones like something waiting to break.

  Elias must have seen it, too.

  His eyes flickered—just slightly, just enough for me to catch the shift.

  Then—

  Everything twisted.

  The air turned wrong, thick with something unseen, something sharp, something hungry. The dim light bent, warping around us, shadows stretching unnaturally against the alley walls.

  Elias inhaled sharply.

  And then—

  He was gone.

  No sound. No movement. Just—gone.

  Like he had never been there at all.

  I staggered back, my breath coming too fast, too shallow. The space where he had stood was empty, but the weight of him still clung to the air, like the world hadn’t caught up to the fact that he was missing.

  My hands were shaking.

  I didn’t know what I had just done.

  But I knew—

  I blinked—

  And I was home.

  The alley, the twisting air, the empty space where Elias had stood—gone.

  The cold press of stone beneath my boots became the familiar creak of wooden floorboards. The dim alley shadows became the soft glow of candlelight. The distant hum of Evermere’s streets was replaced by something too quiet.

  I was standing in the front hall.

  My hands were still shaking. My breath was still uneven. But I was here.

  Somehow.

  My mother and father stood a few paces away, half-turned from whatever they had been doing. Their eyes were locked on me—staring.

  I swallowed hard, gripping the doorframe as exhaustion crashed into me all at once. My body felt wrong, like it had skipped a step in reality, like I had been moving and then suddenly wasn’t.

  Neither of them spoke right away.

  Then, finally, my father said, "Draven."

  Not a question. Not a greeting. Just my name, spoken slow and careful, like he wasn’t entirely sure I was real.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I licked my lips, my mouth too dry. "I’m home."

  My mother’s fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach for me but wasn’t sure if she should.

  Something in the air felt tight. Stretched thin.

  I had no idea what they were seeing when they looked at me.

  But from the way their expressions shifted, from the hesitation in their eyes—

  I knew they had noticed.

  It had worked.

  The silence stretched.

  My mother’s lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something—but the words never came. My father’s gaze flickered, scanning me, not with concern, but with something else. Something I couldn’t name.

  I forced myself to step forward. My limbs felt heavier than they should, like I had been running for miles instead of just—

  Just what?

  My thoughts blurred at the edges, frayed like an old page left too long in the sun. I had been somewhere else only moments ago. Hadn’t I?

  The exhaustion pressed down harder.

  I needed sleep. That was all.

  "I’m going to bed," I muttered. My voice sounded distant, like it didn’t belong to me.

  My mother didn’t respond, but her fingers twitched again. Like she almost stopped me.

  My father finally spoke, his voice careful. "Draven."

  I paused, gripping the stair rail. The way he said my name made my chest tighten.

  Something wasn’t right.

  I swallowed, forcing a steady breath. "What?"

  A beat of hesitation. Then—

  "…Nothing."

  I nodded, too tired to push for more, and turned toward my room.

  Their eyes stayed on me the entire way up the stairs.

  I shut the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment.

  The house was quiet again, but the silence felt different now. Heavier.

  I pressed a hand to my forehead. My thoughts were muddled, slipping between moments that didn’t fit together properly. I had been in the alley. Elias had been there. And then—

  Then I was home.

  No in-between. No walk through the city. Just a gap.

  I let out a slow breath, pushing off the door. My body ached in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion. A deep, dragging weight that settled into my bones.

  I didn’t bother lighting a candle.

  Crossing the room, I collapsed onto my bed, the mattress shifting beneath me. My limbs refused to move any further.

  Something was wrong.

  Not just with the city. Not just with whatever Elias had said.

  With me.

  But my mind was too tired to unravel it.

  For now, I let the darkness take me.

  And for the first time in a long time—

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to wake up.

  Alaric:

  The streets of Evermere stretched long in the fading afternoon light, warm hues turning the stone buildings soft at the edges. The market’s hum still lingered behind us, but the farther we walked, the quieter the city became.

  Selene had barely said a word since we left the bakery.

  Not that this was unusual—Selene had a talent for walking in complete silence when she wanted to. But this silence felt different.

  She was thinking.

  I sighed, stretching my arms behind my head. “Alright. Say it.”

  She glanced at me. “Say what?”

  “Whatever’s chewing through your thoughts like a starving rat.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “That’s a disgusting metaphor.”

  “And yet, here we are.” I arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been lost in your own head since we left Draven. And don’t lie, because I know that look.”

  She exhaled through her nose, looking ahead again. “He’s hiding something.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course he is. That’s what he does.”

  “This is different.”

  I frowned. “How?”

  She hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to notice.

  Then—

  “When he collapsed,” she said, her voice lower now, “it wasn’t just exhaustion. It wasn’t just him losing balance. There was a moment where he looked—” She stopped herself, searching for the right word. “Wrong.”

  A chill traced its way up my spine.

  I had seen it too.

  Not as clearly as she had, maybe. But something about the way Draven flickered—like he was half here, half somewhere else—

  I shook the thought away.

  I wasn’t built for this kind of thinking. That was her department.

  “So what’s the plan, then?” I asked, keeping my tone light. “Do we interrogate him tomorrow? Drag him to the library and force him to cross-reference his own existence?”

  Selene didn’t smile.

  That was the worst part.

  Instead, she just said, “We watch him.”

  I sighed, but the tension in my chest didn’t fade.

  I had been ready to push it all aside. Let Draven sulk in his weirdness until he decided to open up like he always did.

  But the way Selene said it—

  The way she looked uneasy—

  For the first time, I wondered if I should be worried too.

  We walked in silence for a while.

  The streets had thinned out now, most people tucked inside their homes or finishing the last of their errands before nightfall. The lanterns lining the main roads flickered to life, their soft glow stretching shadows along the cobblestones.

  Selene still hadn’t relaxed.

  And if she hadn’t, that meant I probably shouldn’t either.

  I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Alright, so let’s say you’re right—let’s say something’s off about Draven.”

  She shot me a flat look. “You know I’m right.”

  “Fine.” I held up a hand in surrender. “But what does ‘off’ even mean? You think he’s sick? Cursed? Possessed by some old god that only speaks in cryptic one-liners?”

  She didn’t answer right away. She just kept walking, her hands tucked behind her back, her brows furrowed like she was trying to sort through something too tangled to unravel.

  Then, finally—

  “I don’t know.”

  That was rare. Selene not knowing.

  I frowned. “That’s unsettling.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  We passed under an old stone archway, the shortcut we always took when heading home from this side of the city. The streets were narrower here, the buildings older, ivy creeping up the sides of some of the walls.

  For the first time since we left the market, I felt a chill settle beneath my skin.

  Draven had always been weird.

  Quiet, brooding, obsessed with things that made normal people’s heads spin.

  But this was different.

  And neither of us wanted to say it outright.

  Selene stopped at the next turn, glancing toward her street. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Unless the gods themselves descend and drag Draven into the abyss before then.”

  She didn’t laugh.

  She just exhaled, shaking her head. “Let’s hope not.”

  Then, without another word, she turned and disappeared down the road.

  I watched her go, that cold weight still pressing against my ribs.

  I had been ready to brush it all off. Ready to wait it out, like we always did when Draven got lost in his own head.

  But something about tonight—

  Something about the way Selene was unsettled—

  Made me think we wouldn’t be waiting long.

  I took my time walking back.

  Not because I had anything to think about—thinking was Selene’s job—but because the air felt different tonight.

  Evermere was always quiet after dark. Predictable. Steady.

  But now?

  Now the quiet felt like something waiting.

  I pulled my cloak tighter around me, letting my feet guide me down the familiar roads. The shortcut past the old watchtower. The narrow street by the apothecary. The turn that always smelled like bread because of the bakery three doors down.

  All the same as always.

  But not.

  I rolled my shoulders, shaking off the thought.

  Selene had gotten in my head, that was all. She had a way of making things seem bigger than they were.

  Still—

  I found myself glancing over my shoulder.

  Nothing.

  Just the wind kicking up loose leaves along the road.

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I was losing it.

  Ahead, the lights of home came into view. My mother would already be asleep, and my father—wherever he was tonight—wouldn’t care what time I came back.

  I stepped up to the door, one last shiver running down my spine.

  Then I shook my head, forcing a smirk to myself.

  "Draven’s not the only one losing it," I muttered, pushing the door open.

  Draven:

  I woke slowly.

  The kind of slow where sleep clung to the edges of my mind, refusing to let go completely. My limbs felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish, like I hadn’t fully returned to myself yet.

  Then—

  The bell.

  A single, low toll, humming through the air.

  I sat up, the last traces of sleep peeling away. The sound had already faded, but it left something unsettled in my chest, a weight I couldn’t quite shake.

  The house was silent.

  Too silent.

  I stood, moving toward the hall. The usual signs of life—my mother humming to herself in the kitchen, my father shifting through old notes—were absent.

  No footsteps.

  No voices.

  No sign that anyone else was here at all.

  I checked the kitchen. Empty. The front door was still latched, untouched. No note left behind.

  I exhaled, rolling my shoulders, trying to push off the unease creeping up my spine.

  Then, another bell tolled.

  I turned toward the window, pushing aside the curtain.

  And I looked out.

  The curtain shifted beneath my fingers.

  And I froze.

  The sky above Evermere was wrong.

  A massive tear split through the heavens, jagged and shifting, its edges rippling like torn fabric. Colors bled through it—too many colors, hues I didn’t have names for, swirling and shifting like something alive. Some shimmered like oil on water, others pulsed like distant embers.

  It wasn’t natural.

  It wasn’t supposed to be there.

  A hollow weight settled in my chest, pressing against my ribs like something was watching.

  The bell had tolled twice now.

  My breath came slow and steady, but my mind raced.

  A breach.

  It had to be.

  Evermere’s borders were protected, sealed from the outside by something stronger than walls or gates. For centuries, nothing had crossed them without permission.

  But this—this was a tear.

  A split between here and somewhere else.

  I swallowed hard.

  No one else in the streets below seemed to notice. People moved as they always did, merchants setting up stalls, scholars making their way toward the library. Unaware.

  Or maybe—unable to see it.

  I let the curtain fall back into place, pulse hammering.

  If this was a breach—if something was coming through—

  Evermere was in danger.