Riftborn: The Fall of Light

The darkness wasn't empty—it was alive. It pulsed and writhed like a living organism, enveloping Valen completely. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, but he could feel. The weight of the void pressed against him, cold and suffocating. It clawed at his mind, digging into memories he had tried to bury.

He stood still, his hand still pressed to where the monolith had been moments ago, but now it felt as though he was nowhere. Or perhaps he was everywhere.

Then, the voice returned, deeper and more commanding than before.

"Who are you, Valen?"

Before Valen could answer, images began to flash before him, fragments of his life torn from the recesses of his memory. He saw himself as a child, running through the fields of his village, laughter spilling from his lips. He saw the faces of people he once knew—his parents, his friends, their expressions filled with warmth and love.

But then the images shifted, growing darker. He saw the fires that consumed his home, the twisted forms of the creatures that had destroyed everything he cared about. He saw himself standing amidst the ruins, his hands trembling as he picked up the sword that would become his only companion.

"You are a shell," the voice boomed. "A man shaped by pain and loss. Is that all you are? A creature of vengeance and sorrow?"

Valen clenched his fists, the weight of the memories threatening to crush him. "I am… what I need to be."

The void rumbled with what sounded like laughter. "A convenient answer. But the truth cannot be so easily avoided."

The darkness around him shifted, taking shape. Figures emerged from the void, their forms familiar yet distorted. They were the people he had lost—the faces of his parents, his friends, the villagers who had perished that fateful night.

"Why didn't you save us, Valen?" one of them asked, their voice hollow and accusing.

"You were there," another said, their eyes burning with an unnatural light. "You could have fought harder. You could have stopped it."

Valen took a step back, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword. "You're not real," he said, his voice firm. "You're shadows, illusions."

"Perhaps," the voice of the void said. "But does that make their words any less true?"

The figures advanced, their forms shifting and twisting as they closed in around him. Valen drew his sword, the blade glowing faintly in the darkness.

"I can't change the past," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "But I won't let it define me."

The figures lunged, their movements unnatural and erratic. Valen met them head-on, his blade cutting through the darkness. Each strike dispersed the shadows, but for everyone he destroyed, two more took its place.

The battle was relentless, the void throwing wave after wave of shadows at him. But Valen didn't falter. He moved with purpose, his strikes precise and calculated. This was more than a fight—it was a test, a trial to see if he could stand against the weight of his guilt and grief.

As the final shadow dissolved, the void fell silent. Valen stood alone, his chest heaving, his sword glowing faintly in the dim light.

"You are strong," the voice said, its tone softer now. "But strength alone will not carry you forward. What is it you seek, Valen? Why do you walk this path?"

Valen sheathed his sword, his gaze steady. "I seek… purpose. Redemption, maybe. I don't know. But I won't stop until I find it."

The void rumbled again, but this time it felt more like approval than mockery. "Very well. Then take this, and continue your journey."

The darkness began to recede, the void unravelling around him. As it did, a faint light appeared in the distance, growing brighter and brighter until it engulfed him. When the light faded, Valen found himself back in the Whispering Vale, standing before the monolith.

In his hand, he held a small, glowing shard of obsidian. It pulsed with an inner light, warm and comforting.

"This is your proof," the voice said, though now it seemed to come from within him. "The shard will guide you when the path ahead grows dark. Use it wisely."

Valen slipped the shard into his cloak, its weight a comforting presence against his chest. The vale was silent now, the whispers gone.

He turned and began walking, the path ahead clearer than it had been in days. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it with the same resolve that had carried him this far.