TYLER WODEN | FICTION | RIFTWALKERS #1 | FRACTURED REALMS: PART 1& 2 | RAINBOW SALAD
Riftwalkers #1
Fractured Realms: Parts One & Two
Welcome to a new mini-series of mine. Before you read on, for your reading pleasure, I shall tell you this: The prologue is told from the perspective of a young Gandrad in a first-person perspective. Parts one and two switch to Maximillian and a third-person perspective. The consistent element in this story is that both of these perspective narratives are told in the past-tense.
Contents (For Your Clicking Convenience)
Riftwalkers #1 — Prologue & Part One: The Mansion & Part Two: The Realm Of Eternal Dusk
Riftwalkers #2 — Part Three: Fenomet & Part Four: The Oracle’s Choice
Riftwalkers #3 — Part Five: The Horned Child
Riftwalkers #4 — Part Six: The Riftwalker’s Ultimatum
Please…enjoy.
~TW~
Prologue
A thousand years hence, I, Gandrad, stood as a mere acolyte under the tutelage of High Mage Elizia, an epitome of arcane wisdom. Tasked with sealing away an entity that threatened the entire cosmos, our assembly was a curious blend of the realm’s greatest: The Oracle Selene, her eyes shrouded but her intuition unmatched; General Tiberia, whose sword could sever the sinews of reality itself; and Vespera, the mercurial sorceress whose allegiances could shift like the tides. High Mage Elizia may not have been present in person, but she moved with us in her ethereal form, guiding us.
The room we occupied within that ancient tower was as much a part of our endeavour as any of us. The runic circle scribed on the door was the nexus of our collective will, its pulsating symbols acting as sentinels against the yawning rift at its core — a gateway to otherworldly malevolence.
Elizia’s ethereal voice cut through the weighty atmosphere. ‘What you do here, you do for the fate of all.’ Her statement set the tone, establishing the gravity of the task at hand. Selene’s haunting insights reinforced it. ‘The demon behind this rift is an ancient terror,’ she intoned, ‘an entity that exists outside our realm of time and space.’
Tiberia, always a woman of action over words, raised her sword and demanded resolution. ‘Then let us act!’
It was a confluence of arcane might and mystical wisdom. The air was thick with incantations, the arcane circle blazed with light, and our ancient weapons were raised in a harmony of purpose. I felt an ephemeral bond uniting us, a singular intent that soared above individual prowess.
Despite the gravity of our situation, as the youngest among them, the mantle of concluding the ritual fell upon me. My eyes, though yet unlined by the ravages of time, bore the weight of wisdom acquired from a relentless pursuit of knowledge. My voice wavered but momentarily as I channeled my raw energy into the complex web of incantations. With the final word, a resounding hum filled the room, and the rift shrank into nothingness.
In the aftermath of the ritual, the chamber was steeped in a tense atmosphere, akin to the calm after a storm. The runic circle still glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows on the walls of the room. Despite the demon being sealed, the air was pregnant with residual malevolence.
Suddenly, Selene, the oracle whose shrouded gaze had always been so steady, began to tremble. Her limbs convulsed as though she were a marionette pulled by invisible strings. Her voice, usually imbued with ethereal calm, was tinged with a dissonant echo as she muttered incoherently.
‘The demon — its reach extends beyond the rift,’ Selene hissed, her voice distorted as if two beings spoke in chorus. ‘You cannot contain me.’
Elizia’s voice was like a howling horn of force that gave us alarm. ‘It means to possess her!’ She exclaimed. The High Mage’s form glowed an eerie greenish-blue, and my tutor’s voice did battle with the unseen force of the demon that we sought to contain.
General Tiberia, never one to hesitate, once again unsheathed her sword, the Sword of Justice. ‘We cannot allow it,’ she growled, brandishing the weapon, which hummed as though attuned to the energies coursing through the room.
I stood between Selene and the others and began to chant an incantation. Arcane symbols appeared around my outstretched hands, forming a barrier between Selene and the demon’s invisible influence.
Vespera joined the incantation, her voice in perfect harmony with my own. Together, our words of power wove a complex tapestry of arcane bindings, wrapping Selene in a protective cocoon of light. Tiberia, meanwhile, held her sword aloft, its blade pulsating as if absorbing the dark energy emanating from Selene.
For a tense moment, Selene’s form was engulfed in a shroud of darkness that fought against the cocoon of light. Two competing forces, one bent on liberation and the other on imprisonment clashed in an ephemeral struggle for dominance.
With a final surge of will, Vespera, Tiberia, and I thrust our focus toward Selene. The cocoon of light intensified, piercing through the dark shroud. A cacophonous wail erupted from Selene, not her own voice but that of the demon, as it was expelled from her being and retreated back into the sealed dimension.
Selene staggered momentarily before falling to her knees. Her eyes, though still shrouded, seemed to regain their clarity. She looked at her hands and said, ‘I am grateful,’ and as she spoke, I noticed her voice lacked a certain resonance it had before.
Elizia, still ethereal, sighed deeply. ‘The demon’s reach was further than we anticipated. We must be vigilant.’
Tiberia sheathed her sword. Her eyes were wary, but her posture had relaxed. ‘Then vigilant we shall be. Evil has a way of defying even the most cunning of cages.’
As we made our way back, my thoughts turned to the demon once more and to Selene’s convulsions. The voice of Selene when she had said, ‘You cannot contain me, echoed in my mind.
The demon had been sealed, the threat dealt with. Yet, as time moved forward, Selene did not. Where once Selene and I were close, she became more and more detached from reality, secluding herself in her chambers and claiming she needed to focus on her readings.
That was one thousand years ago. If I had half the wit I have now, mayhap I would have been able to stop this before it began. Mayhap, just mayhap, I could have stopped the realms from fracturing.
PART ONE — THE MANSION
MAXIMILLIAN
Within the depths of a grand mansion lay a secret tomb, accessible only to those skilled in arcane arts. Its walls were a blend of rough-hewn stone and ancient inscriptions, obscured by creeping shadows and an ambient, unnatural fog that seemed to crawl along the floor. Cobwebs hung like tattered curtains, and aged statues with stern expressions and faded runes stood like guardians over a secret they could no longer comprehend.
At the far end of the tomb stood a colossal wooden door, sealed with intricate arcane symbols glowing softly, as if harbouring the very pulse of the chamber. The symbols appeared to be in a constant state of flux, squirming like living entities. The door seemed to hum, a low resonance that communicated a restless energy yearning to break free. A feeling of dread hung thick in the room, like a fog refusing to lift.
This was the setting in which Maximilian and Gandrad found themselves, both captivated and apprehensive of the room’s palpable power. Sconces attached to the wall held flickering flames, casting an eerie glow that danced across Gandrad’s long white beard and the fine intricacies of his staff, decorated with glowing runes. Their luminescence seemed feeble compared to the door’s otherworldly glow, a visual dichotomy that heightened the tension in the room.
The stone floor, cold and unwelcoming, seemed to drink in the arcane energy radiating from Gandrad’s staff as he weaved his spells. Every etching and inscription on the walls seemed to quiver, like chords struck on a celestial harp, in response to the energies being manipulated within the tomb. A grand table to the side was covered with ancient tomes, vials filled with mysterious liquids, and a scattering of magical components — mistletoe, bat wings, and oddly shaped crystals — evidently the remnants of previous incantations or experiments.
Emanating from the sealed door was a pulsating aura of menace, as though the entity it held in confinement sensed the presence of potential liberators — or intruders. It was a room that defied the natural order, a room where the barriers between dimensions seemed frighteningly thin, ready to rupture at the slightest mistake in Gandrad’s complex incantations.
It was a tomb sealed with purpose, filled with an atmosphere so thick and electric that even Maximilian, a seasoned Wizard, found himself at a loss for words, overwhelmed by its unfathomable power. And as the seals on the door began to glow even brighter, both men understood the weight of the moment: the very fabric of the world teetered on a perilous edge.
Maximilian stepped forward, squinting into the dimness. He reached out a hand and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he tried to make sense of the chaotic air molecules. ‘It’s absolutely intangible, Gandrad,’ he murmured. ‘Your magic is beyond anything I’ve ever seen.’
‘Intangible?’ Gandrad questioned as he spun his staff between his hands, the runes glowing brightly. His gaze shifted from Maxi to the end of the wooden staff and back again. ‘Maximillian Averon, you expect me to believe that with all your experience as a Wizard, you have never seen magic as mine?’
Gandrad stood tall, his white beard bristling as he wove a series of spells so complex that Maximillian could scarcely comprehend. Gandrad’s steely blue eyes glanced up from the task at hand, and Maximilian was awed by the sight before him — silver sparks flew forth from Gandrad’s fingertips as he cast each delicate spell, and conversation flowed freely between them while the air around them crackled with arcane energy.
The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly tense as Gandrad continued his work, and soon enough, a faint humming could be heard from beyond the sealed door at the far end of the chamber. Maximilian felt a chill run down his spine as he wondered what was beyond that door. It rattled once. Then again. Then louder, and stronger.
‘Gandrad,’ said Maximillian faintly. ‘We were assigned to deal with a crossover, yes?’
Gandrad stood still, the air crackling around him like an electrical storm as the master wizard spoke. His face was a stony mask of silence, but the power from the wizard seemed to seep from every pore in his body.
‘Well,’ said Maximillian, ‘at least tell me what the spells you weaved do.’
Gandrad paused. ‘My friend,’ he began slowly. ‘I fear this foe may be beyond you.’
‘Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?’ said Maximillian as he watched the seals on the door glow.
Gandrad nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ He stepped forward and placed a hand on the door, his eyes closing as he uttered one last incantation. In an instant, the seals were extinguished, and the room was plunged into darkness.
Maximilian’s heart raced as he cautiously approached the door, unsure of what lay beyond its threshold. He heard a faint click, and then the door creaked open ever so slightly. As he peered inside, Maximilian gasped in shock at what he saw — a vast expanse of swirling energy that seemed to stretch on forever in all directions. The colors were unlike anything he had ever seen before — vibrant purples and blues intertwined with sparkling silver stars that shone brighter than any light he had encountered before.
As they stood there in awe, Maximilian realised something else — the room was alive with energy from a realm far beyond their own. It was clear that this was no ordinary crossover- it was an interdimensional portal, and where it led, Maximillian could only guess.
PART TWO — THE REALM OF ETERNAL DUSK
MAXIMILLIAN
The landscape within the other dimension appeared both barren and infernal, a spectral realm with an ambiance of eternal dusk. The sky above, if one could even call it that, was an unbroken tapestry of smoky clouds that permitted neither light nor hope. It felt like a world neglected by the gods, where even the air was suffused with malevolence.
The ground beneath their feet was hard and uneven, composed of cracked earth that resembled desiccated lava, which emitted an ominous, orange glow. Piles of jagged rocks were strewn about like the ruins of forgotten citadels. Shadows cast by nothing discernible flickered over the terrain, contributing to the unsettling illusion of movement in the periphery of their vision.
No vegetation was visible. No sign of life apart from disconcerting voices whispering into Maximillian’s ears. The sound was an intangible haze, words of a language foreign or perhaps ancient, murmuring at the edge of auditory perception. It was as though the very realm sought to communicate, or perhaps corrupt, using utterances from beyond mortal ken.
Gandrad, the seasoned wizard, appeared unperturbed, his staff glowing dimly as a solitary beacon in the vast desolation. His steely blue eyes remained alert, scanning the dark stretches of the unholy landscape. With a voice resonating with wisdom, he spoke to Maximilian. ‘Ignore their foul tongue. Such whispers are the siren calls of entities better left unacknowledged.’
Despite the pall of unease, Maximilian felt a modicum of reassurance in Gandrad’s words and presence. Even so, as they delved deeper into the obsidian abyss of this twisted dimension, both were acutely aware that the boundaries separating this world from their own were not just physical but profoundly magical. Ignoring the whispers was one thing, but remaining unscathed by the realm’s existential threat was quite another.
They proceeded cautiously with Gandrad leading the way. As they ventured further, Maximillian began to notice a variety of bizarre and grotesque entities lurking in the shadows. There were creatures with multiple eyes and tentacles, others resembling giant insects or even humanoids that seemed to be composed solely of darkness. They all seemed to be watching them as they passed by, their presence seeming to linger long after they had gone.
Maximilian felt a chill run through his spine as he saw these strange creatures, but he could not deny the sense of wonder he also felt at the sight of such alien lifeforms. He knew that no matter how frightening these beings may have been, they were still part of something larger than himself — something mysterious and beautiful.
Maximillian was hit with a sudden sense of heat. Burning. A burning sensation that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. His eyes darted around frantically, seeking the source of this sudden surge of energy. Then he saw it — a dark fireball hurtling through the spectral sky, aimed directly at them. It was a mass of twisted flame and smoky tendrils, a chaotic amalgamation of dark magic and raw, destructive force.
The fireball was nearly upon them, its malevolent energy radiating a suffocating heat that felt as though it were consuming the very air around them. Maximillian’s instincts screamed for him to evade, to conjure some form of magical shield, but there was simply no time. The malign sphere was too fast, too sudden; he barely had a moment to share a wide-eyed glance with Gandrad before the fireball hit them.
I hope you enjoyed that. In the future I shall write more of this story. If you liked any of it, please share and tell me what you liked.
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That’s all from me this time.
~TW~
