The fog felt alive.Each step Rick took echoed like a drumbeat, swallowed and returned by the white mist that covered everything. The air buzzed faintly with energy — old magic, sharp as static and cold as rain.He followed the faint glow of the inverted sun sigil until the haze thinned enough for shapes to appear ahead.Ruined arches. Broken towers. Tents made from canvas stitched with runes.And beyond them — movement.Figures in tattered armor, their cloaks bearing the mark of the Free Circles.The Remnants.Rick exhaled in relief and raised a hand. “Sova!”A dozen crossbows aimed at him instantly.Then a voice he recognized cut through the tension: “Hold your fire.”Sova emerged from behind a stone pillar, her lantern dimmed to a soft flicker. She looked older somehow, more burdened — the kind of tired that didn’t come from lack of sleep, but from too much surviving.“Rick,” she said carefully. “You made it.”He glanced around at the camp. “Barely. The city’s gone, Sova. Greyhaven

Silence.Not the kind born of peace — the kind that feels manufactured.Rick’s eyes opened to a sky that shimmered like melted glass. The light wasn’t sunlight — it was memory. It pulsed in slow waves, rising and falling with each heartbeat he couldn’t quite feel.He sat up slowly. The air smelled of rain, yet no clouds moved above him. The landscape stretched endlessly — rolling fields of gold, fractured by shards of obsidian that jutted from the earth like broken mirrors.He touched one. The reflection that stared back wasn’t his own.It was… him, but older. Harder. Wearing a crown made of light.The reflection smiled.> “You finally made it back.”Rick stumbled backward. “What the hell—”The ground trembled. From the horizon, shadows began to take shape — not people, but silhouettes of worlds. Cities floating in mist. Oceans caught mid-wave. All flickering in and out of existence like dying thoughts.> The First Dawn.The words formed in his mind, unspoken yet undeniable.This wasn

The rain wouldn’t stop.Not water — not really — but a glowing drizzle that fell from the fractured sky, each drop a flicker of fading magic. The city below gleamed like a dying circuit board, veins of gold and shadow crawling through its streets.Rick stood at the edge of the Remnant encampment on the outskirts of Greyhaven, looking toward the Citadel — a massive spire of silver and stone wrapped in a dome of protective runes. It pulsed with energy, like a heartbeat.Behind him, the camp buzzed with uneasy preparation. Vampires and fae worked side by side. Human witches traced protective sigils in the mud. Werewolves stood as guards, eyes glowing faintly under the stormlight.For the first time, the supernatural world wasn’t hiding in the shadows.It was uniting.Sova approached, her hood drawn up, her expression grim. “Scouts say the Council’s reinforced the lower walls. Barrier glyphs triple-layered. Even Verin can’t phase through that.”Rick nodded, jaw tight. “We go for the power

The tremors didn’t stop after the Warden fell.The ground kept shivering in short bursts, like something deep beneath was knocking on the world’s surface, demanding to be let out.Rick stood at the edge of the smoking crater the creature left behind. His broken sword lay at his feet, metal still humming with leftover magic. Sova, Verin, and Kade watched him carefully, all of them waiting for him to speak.But Rick couldn’t.Not yet.Not until the echoes in his mind faded.> You left us behind.The Warden’s words clung to him like dust he couldn’t brush off.Sova was the first to break the silence. “The Citadel’s barrier is collapsing. Whatever’s under there… it’s waking up.”Verin stepped closer, voice low. “Rick. You said the Warden knew you. That you built it.” His eyes narrowed. “Are we walking into something you created?”Rick swallowed. “I think we are.”No one spoke after that.---The Descent BeginsThey reached the Citadel’s base — an obsidian tower carved with ancient runes.

The shattered mirrors hadn’t just broken —they had come alive.Fragments floated in the air like razor-edged stars, spinning slowly, humming with gold light. And from their surfaces stepped the reflections — dozens of versions of Rick, each warped by different choices, different regrets, different hungers.The chamber filled with them.One had veins of fire crawling under his skin.Another had no eyes, only sockets glowing with light.Another had claws instead of hands.Some looked human — too human — smiling too calmly.Rick felt a cold dread settle in his stomach.“These are the futures I escaped…” he whispered.His shadow chuckled behind him.“No. These are the futures you created, then abandoned.”Sova tightened her grip on her staff. “We’re surrounded.”Verin hissed, fangs bared. “Let them come. I’ve wanted to punch Rick for a while.”Kade groaned. “We are NOT surviving this.”Rick raised his sword.“We are,” he said. “Because we don’t have a choice.”---The First AttackOne of