It's been like this for a long time, Knows The Truth continued, gesturing at the alien landscape that stretched before them. The Void Shapers began their work here long before they turned their attention to your world. What you see is their influence—their vision of perfection.

  "Perfect?" Faye couldn't keep the disbelief from her voice. "This is... dead."

  Not dead. Transformed. And your world will be like this soon, too, if the Void Shapers are not stopped.

  The words hung in the air, heavy with prophecy. Faye shivered despite the strange, tepid temperature.

  "Is it safe to travel here?" she asked, scanning the bizarrely angular horizon.

  Knows The Truth made a sound that might have been a laugh, though it held no humor. No, Faye Wilderpath. It is not. It has not been safe here for a long time.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As Faye followed Knows The Truth through the Netherkin otherworld, she struggled to keep her eyes down. Above, where a sky should have been, phosphorescent veins pulsed in rhythms that caused a headache to build in her temples, casting an oily, shifting light across the broken landscape. This wasn't merely another place—it was another set of rules entirely, a realm where the familiar physics of her world had been shattered and reassembled by careless, cosmic hands.

  "By the Ancients," Faye whispered, her voice thin in the strange atmosphere.

  The air itself felt wrong—too dense against her skin yet somehow insufficient in her lungs. Each breath required conscious effort, as if she were swimming rather than standing. The others materialized behind her, their expressions mirroring her own bewilderment as they took in the impossible terrain.

  Land masses floated like islands in a suspended sea of nothing, some the size of villages, others no larger than stepping stones. Between them stretched paths of arcing stone, natural causeways that seemed to ignore gravity's pull. The stone itself possessed an unsettling translucence, revealing shadowy structures beneath its surface—blood vessels of a dying world.

  "It's..." Callum began, but words failed him.

  Faye understood the sentiment. How could human language capture this? Thornhaven's teachings had prepared them for many things, but not for this shattered reality where space folded in on itself like crumpled parchment.

  Distance seemed meaningless here. A mountain range that appeared miles away suddenly loomed large as she shifted her weight, then receded again when she blinked. Colors bled from objects only to reform in impossible combinations. The horizon—what passed for one—rippled like heat over desert sand, distorting everything beyond immediate perception.

  Faye remembered the Netherkin otherworld as she had first seen it, through the shimmering, distorted barrier of a rift in her third season at Thornhaven. It had been corrupted, but whole; the land had conformed to the logic of a world still bound to natural law. Now, logic itself had been shattered.

  Faye watched as the Netherkin Scout, Keeps Its Vows, moved cautiously forward, its elongated limbs bending at unnatural angles as it tested the path ahead. Even in this alien landscape, she recognized wariness in its movements. Keeps Its Vows belonged here, had once lived here, yet appeared no more comfortable than she felt.

  A sudden shift in temperature made Faye's skin prickle with gooseflesh. Cold—biting and fierce—enveloped her for three heartbeats, then dissipated into smothering heat that left her gasping. Behind her, Astra cursed, fumbling for her water skin.

  The physical laws are... unstable. Knows The Truth explained, noticing their discomfort. The fabric of our world is unraveling. What you feel is merely the symptom of deeper wounds.

  As if to emphasize the point, Faye's stomach lurched as gravity briefly intensified, then weakened, leaving her momentarily lighter than she should be. The sensation triggered a wave of nausea that she fought to control, pressing her palm against her temple.

  "Will it get worse?" Ren asked, sweat beading on the warm, bronze skin of his brow.

  Yes, Knows The Truth replied simply.

  Fears No End made a series of clicking sounds that Faye couldn't decipher, but the tension in its posture spoke volumes. Even these creatures, born to this realm, found the current state disturbing. Burns With Wrath, the other Warrior, stood unnaturally still, its partial exoskeleton gleaming dully in the pulsing light.

  "We need to move," Callum said, his voice steady despite the sheen of sweat on his brow. "Standing here won't make it easier."

  Faye nodded, grateful for his pragmatism. They had a mission—find the Vault. Everything else was a distraction, no matter how profound or disorienting.

  Knows The Truth gestured toward one of the stone causeways that arced upward before disappearing into a haze of shifting particles. This path should hold. The Vault lies across several territories. We must traverse them all.

  "And if the path doesn't hold?" Astra asked sharply, one hand still resting on her bow.

  Then we fall, the Mage replied, into spaces between spaces. It would not be a pleasant end, but it would be an end.

  With that comforting thought, they began their journey across the first causeway. The stone hummed beneath Faye's feet, vibrations traveling up through her boots and into her bones. The sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it was undeniably alien—a reminder with each step that they had crossed a threshold into the unknown.

  As they walked, Faye noticed movement at the corners of her vision—shifting forms that disappeared when she turned to look directly at them. Not quite shadows, not quite creatures, they flickered in and out of existence like half-formed thoughts.

  "What are those?" she asked Keeps Its Vows, who walked beside her.

  The Scout made a soft trilling sound, then gestured with one elongated hand, mimicking something dissolving into particles.

  Echoes, Knows The Truth translated from ahead. Remnants of beings caught in temporal distortions. They are both there and not there—fragments of what once existed whole.

  Faye shuddered. "Are they... conscious?"

  No more than a reflection is conscious of the mirror, the Mage replied, though something in its tone suggested uncertainty.

  They continued in silence after that, each member of the party lost in private contemplation of what this shattered world meant for their mission. The causeway gradually widened, merging with a floating island of considerable size. Vegetation grew here—if such a term could apply to the twisted, crystalline structures that protruded from the ground. They resembled plants only in the most abstract sense, branching and spreading like coral, but composed of something that shimmered with internal light.

  Faye reached out to touch one, only for Keeps Its Vows to catch her wrist with startling speed. The Scout made an urgent clicking sound, accompanied by a sharp shake of its head.

  Not safe, Knows The Truth translated. What looks solid may not be. What seems harmless may kill.

  Chastened, Faye withdrew her hand. "Thank you," she said to Keeps Its Vows, who released her with a gesture she interpreted as acknowledgment.

  Suddenly, Knows The Truth halted, its body growing rigid. The rest of the party froze in response, hands moving to weapons by instinct.

  Something approaches, the Mage announced, its mental voice tense.

  Burns With Wrath and Fears No End moved to flank the group, their postures shifting to combat readiness. The seconds stretched, marked only by the pulsing light from above and the faint hum of the crystalline ground beneath them.

  Then they appeared—five Netherkin stumbling into view from behind a jagged outcropping. Unlike their companions, these creatures moved with desperate, jerking motions. Dark ichor leaked from wounds on their translucent bodies, and their clicking communications came in frantic, disorganized bursts.

  Refugees, Knows The Truth said, lowering the hand it had raised in preparation for magic.

  Faye felt it then—a surge of terror so powerful it made her gasp. The emotion wasn't hers, but crashed through her consciousness like a tidal wave. Her hand flew to the artifact at her hip, the ancient communication device. It had never transmitted feelings this intense before.

  Beside her, Keeps Its Vows trembled visibly, its own emotions bleeding through the artifact with almost equal force—concern, recognition, the desire to help. Faye placed a steadying hand on the Scout's arm, sharing in its distress.

  The refugees approached cautiously, their movements becoming more erratic as they drew closer. One, smaller than the others—a Scout—collapsed to its knees, dark fluid pooling beneath it.

  Knows The Truth stepped forward, engaging in rapid telepathic communication with what appeared to be the group's leader—a Mage whose glowing veins pulsed with a sickly, dim light. The exchange continued for several minutes, Knows The Truth occasionally making sounds of concern or surprise.

  Finally, it turned back to the expedition party. They flee from the region ahead, it explained, its mental voice grave. They say the world has… come undone there.

  "What does that mean?" Callum asked, his hand instinctively finding Astra's.

  Knows The Truth hesitated, seeming to struggle with the translation. Their account is fragmented. Fear has made their communication... imprecise. But they speak of walking for hours only to find themselves back where they began. Of spaces that fold in upon themselves. Of time flowing differently in different places. They use the term “Unraveled.”

  The Mage paused, its gaze shifting to the injured Scout on the ground. One of them says a member of their party aged into dust before their eyes. Centuries passed in moments while they watched, helpless.

  A heavy silence fell over the group as they processed this information. Faye felt cold dread settling in her stomach, a sensation that had nothing to do with the otherworld's fluctuating temperatures.

  Knows The Truth turned all its eyes to her, their glow dimming slightly as if it sensed her unease. The region ahead—between us and the Vault—has been unmade. Or perhaps it is being unmade, continuously. Time loses meaning in such places. The Mage's next words carried a weight that seemed to press against Faye's chest. I expected trouble. Not the specific form, but... trouble of this sort. The Void Shapers would not leave the path to the Vault unguarded.

  Astra and Callum exchanged looks, a silent communication passing between them.

  "We can't just walk blindly into what might be a death trap," Astra said, her voice tight with tension. "We need more information, a strategy."

  Callum frowned, his scar standing out starkly against his pale skin. "We didn't come here to flinch at the edge of revelation, Astra. The Vault is our objective—our only hope against the Void Shapers. If crossing this broken zone is the only path..."

  "There might be another way around," Astra insisted. "A different approach."

  There is not, Knows The Truth interjected. The paths to the Vault are few, and this is the most direct. The alternatives would take us through territories controlled by those loyal to the Void Shapers. Our chances there would be even less favorable.

  The injured Scout made a series of desperate clicking sounds, reaching out toward Keeps Its Vows with trembling limbs. Keeps Its Vows responded with softer clicks, a communication that needed no translation—comfort offered in the face of inevitable suffering.

  Through the artifact, Faye felt the Scout's fear give way to resignation, then to a flicker of hope. Whatever Keeps Its Vows had communicated and provided some measure of peace.

  They beg us not to go forward, Knows The Truth said softly. They have seen what waits ahead and cannot imagine survival possible.

  "Then we should listen," Astra argued.

  "We should prepare," Callum countered. "But we must continue."

  Knows The Truth nodded, its tall form casting a stretched shadow across the crystalline ground. We cannot turn and flee at the first sign of danger. The Vault contains what we need.

  The refugees made more sounds, clicking and whistling in patterns that conveyed distress even to Faye's untrained ears. But there was a shift in their demeanor, a subtle change that suggested acceptance, if not agreement.

  They understand our choice, and Knows The Truth confirmed. They will continue their own journey, away from the broken zone. They suggest we follow, but they do not condemn our decision to proceed.

  With that settled, the two groups prepared to part ways. The injured Scout was helped to its feet, supported by its companions. As they moved away, it turned back once, making a single, haunting sound that lingered in the strange air.

  "What did it say?" Faye asked Keeps Its Vows.

  The Scout hesitated, then made a gesture toward the sky-veins and back to its own chest.

  It wished us to find our way back to wholeness. Knows The Truth translated. An old blessing among our kind.

  They watched as the refugees disappeared behind the crystalline vegetation, their forms gradually swallowed by the shifting landscape. Then, with renewed resolve, the expedition turned toward their own path—toward the broken zone that waited ahead.

  The causeway before them seemed to shimmer and distort, the endpoint impossible to discern through the haze of unreality. With each step forward, Faye felt the rules of existence growing thinner, more fragile. Colors bled from objects around them, leaving behind ghostly outlines that reformed in impossible hues. The ground beneath her feet sometimes felt solid, sometimes seemed to give way like sand, forcing her to constantly adjust her balance.

  Time itself began to crack. Faye watched a drop of sweat fall from her brow, hanging suspended for what felt like minutes before suddenly accelerating to splash against her boot. Her heartbeat stuttered in her chest—too slow, then racing, then normal again, all within the span of seconds.

  Stay close, Knows The Truth instructed, its voice echoing strangely in Faye's mind. The boundaries between moments will try to separate us. Do not let them.

  Faye reached out, finding one of Keeps' elongated, bony hands with her own. The Scout's grip was cool and firm, an anchor in the dissolving reality around them. Ahead, Callum and Astra walked with their shoulders touching, while Ren kept pace beside them, his eyes wide with a scholar's horrified fascination.

  Each step forward was a gamble—a wager against forces that cared nothing for their existence. But they continued nonetheless, deeper into the broken zone, toward whatever revelation or ruin awaited them in the Vault beyond.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The air rippled, visible waves distorting the violet sky like stones cast into still water. Faye felt her stomach lurch as gravity shifted, pulling her sideways for three stuttering heartbeats before snapping back into place. She steadied herself against a twisted column of what might have been coral, though it pulsed with an inner light that no earthly coral possessed. The deeper they pressed into the Netherkin otherworld, the less the rules of her reality seemed to apply, replaced by something more fluid, more uncertain—a dreamscape that refused to settle on a single version of itself.

  "Watch your step," Callum warned, extending a hand to stabilize Astra as the ground beneath her feet tilted. "The terrain's getting worse."

  Faye scanned their surroundings, her eyes narrowing against the disorienting landscape. Strange flora lined their path—crystalline structures that might have been plants, shifting between states of bloom and decay in eyeblink intervals. A cluster of translucent fronds unfurled, caught the light in a hypnotic gleam, then withered to dust only to regenerate a moment later. Nothing stayed constant.

  "Knows The Truth," she called ahead to the Netherkin Mage. "Is this... normal?"

  Knows The Truth paused, its elongated form silhouetted against the fracturing sky. The violet expanse above them had begun to splinter, revealing patches of acid green that burned into Faye's retinas.

  Normal is relative, the Mage's voice slid into her mind, a whisper that existed somewhere between sound and thought. This is the boundary where stability ends. Beyond here, time and space lose coherence.

  Faye lifted her gaze upward, studying the green patches. She had expected blue—the azure of her world's sky before Netherkin terraforming turned it violet. But this acid green was something else entirely, something older perhaps.

  "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the sickly hue that seemed to pulse and throb like an infected wound in the heavens.

  Knows The Truth followed her gesture. A momentary hesitation rippled through its translucent form.

  You see the past, it replied before the terraforming.

  Faye stared, transfixed. The green expanse wasn't an anomaly; it was a window to the Netherkin world's original state. A revelation dawned on her, sharp and uncomfortable: she had always considered the diseased mauve and grey of the Netherkin’s corruption innate to their species. Now, she was faced with the undeniable truth: this was not the natural state of their world. If Knows The Truth’s theory was correct—and Faye was increasingly certain that it was—the corruption had been a preventative measure taken to protect the Netherkin’s world. The invaders she had been taught to hate had themselves been invaded, their world tainted before they had ever touched hers.

  Burns With Wrath chittered something to Fears No End, the two Warrior-caste Netherkin flanking their group like living sentinels. Their language was untranslatable to Faye without the artifact she shared with Keeps Its Vows, but their unease was palpable—rigid postures, glances that lingered too long on the fractured sky.

  "They don't like this place," Callum observed, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "Can't say I blame them.”

  Astra notched an arrow loosely against her bowstring, eyes scanning the horizon. "Stay alert. If the Netherkin are afraid, we should be terrified."

  The ground beneath them trembled. Not a sharp quake but a continuous vibration that hummed up through the soles of Faye's boots, resonating in her teeth and bones. It wasn't sound—not exactly. More like pressure, a presence pressing inward from every direction at once, as if the very fabric of reality was being compressed.

 

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