The Rift wasn't on any map.

It couldn't be.

Kael and Jorah stood on a cliff overlooking a wound in reality — a jagged canyon where the world seemed to fold inward. The air shimmered like hot glass, bending sound, light, and memory alike. Wisps of color drifted upward like smoke that had forgotten what it used to be.

Jorah leaned forward, peering into the abyss. "That… doesn't look natural."

Kael snorted. "That's because it isn't. The Rift appeared the day I tried to undo the unmaking."

"The what now?"

Kael grinned. "Don't worry about it. Even the gods stopped keeping track."

Jorah groaned. "Fantastic. So what, we just walk into it?"

Kael tested the edge with his boot. The ground hissed like a living thing. "Walk, no. Fall, probably."

"Wait, WHAT—"

Too late. Kael stepped forward and vanished.

Jorah swore, clutched his pack, and jumped after him.

---

The sensation was like drowning in thoughts that weren't yours.

Kael hit the ground — or something pretending to be ground — and exhaled. The Rift's interior was a shifting maze of black fog and drifting fragments of memory: half-built houses, broken toys, a sword with no handle, a heartbeat with no owner.

Jorah landed beside him with a wheeze. "I hate magic. I hate you. I hate this."

"Good," Kael said cheerfully. "That means you're still yourself."

Jorah blinked. "What?"

Kael's smile faded. "The Rift eats identity. Names, faces, purpose — it digests them. You start forgetting who you are, until you dissolve into it."

Jorah paled. "You could've mentioned that earlier."

"I could've," Kael agreed. "But you'd have stayed behind."

"Exactly!"

Kael clapped him on the shoulder. "And then who would keep me entertained?"

---

They started walking — if you could call it that. The landscape shifted with every step, turning from stone to mist to memory. At one point, Kael found himself standing on a bridge made of his own handwriting. Every letter whispered his name, then swallowed it.

"Kael Vorrion," he murmured aloud, testing the sound.

The world pulsed faintly in response — approving, almost.

Behind him, Jorah struggled to keep up. "You said there's a shard in here?"

"There should be," Kael said. "Somewhere at the center. But the Rift moves like a dream — you don't find it; it decides when you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

Kael shrugged. "To forget."

---

Hours—or maybe years—passed. Time didn't work properly here.

Jorah's voice began to fade first. Then his face blurred at the edges, like a sketch losing its lines. Kael grabbed him by the shoulders. "Focus! Say your name."

"...Jor...ah," he stammered. "Wait, that's—yeah, that's me, right?"

Kael nodded firmly. "Keep saying it. Don't let the Rift take it."

"What about you?" Jorah said, voice trembling. "You seem fine."

Kael's eyes flickered, unreadable. "I've lost my name before."

That shut Jorah up for a while.

---

They crossed a valley filled with reflections of themselves — dozens of Kaels and Jorahs, each slightly different. Some were older, others younger. One Kael wore a crown. Another was missing an arm. One just stood still, laughing at nothing.

Jorah shuddered. "They're… us?"

Kael's voice was low. "Echoes. Versions the Rift remembers better than we do."

As they walked, one of the reflections turned and stared directly at Kael. "You shouldn't have come back," it whispered.

Kael stopped cold. "I didn't."

The reflection smiled. "Then why do you keep dying?"

The glassy ground cracked underfoot, and all the reflections screamed at once.

---

The Rift shifted again.

They were standing in a memory — Kael's memory. The ruined battlefield from twenty years in the future stretched before them. The broken altar. The shattered Chrono Blade. The smell of blood.

And there they were — Kael's six betrayers. Kieran, Alren, Liora, the twins, and Vessra — frozen mid-motion, like ghosts preserved in amber.

Jorah's breath caught. "This is… the place you died."

Kael nodded slowly. "Looks smaller now."

He approached the altar, running a hand across its cracked surface. "The Rift's showing me what it wants me to forget."

"Your death?" Jorah asked.

Kael's eyes softened. "No. My anger."

---

From behind the altar, something moved.

At first, Kael thought it was another memory. But then it stepped forward — a figure cloaked in rags, face hidden by a mirrored mask. Its voice was layered, hundreds of tones speaking as one.

"Kael Vorrion," it said. "The Rift remembers you."

Kael straightened. "You're the shard's guardian, I assume."

"I am the Rift," it replied. "The fragment is my heart. To claim it, you must surrender your name."

Jorah's eyes widened. "Wait, if he gives up his name—"

"I cease to exist," Kael finished calmly.

"Then don't do it!" Jorah said. "We'll find another way!"

Kael smiled faintly. "There's never another way."

---

He stepped closer to the masked figure. "If I give you my name, will you let him go?"

The Rift hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

"Then take it," Kael said, voice steady. "Take my name. Take everything."

The mask tilted. "Willingly given?"

Kael met its empty gaze. "I've been trying to lose myself for years."

The Rift reached out. Its hand, made of shifting mist, pressed against Kael's chest. Cold burned through him — not pain, but absence. Letters lifted from his skin, scattering into the dark. His mark flickered, dimmed, and then vanished.

For a heartbeat, Kael forgot who he was.

---

Jorah shouted his name — the sound distant, muffled, meaningless. Kael turned toward him, confused.

"Who… are you?" Kael asked quietly.

Jorah's eyes filled with panic. "You idiot, it's me! It's Jorah! You're Kael Vorrion! You're—"

The Rift screamed.

Light tore through the void as Kael's body convulsed. The letters that had been his name reformed around him, spiraling like stars. His mark reignited, brighter than ever.

Kael gasped, clutching his chest. "Not… today."

The Rift shrieked, its mask cracking. The entire space trembled.

Jorah stumbled backward. "Kael, what did you—"

Kael's eyes burned with blue light. "I rewrote the rule."

He raised his hand, and the Rift shattered like glass.

---

When the light faded, they were standing on a quiet plain beneath a sky of swirling gold clouds. In Kael's palm floated the new shard — clear, humming softly, like a heartbeat reborn.

Jorah collapsed onto the grass. "You… you scared the hell out of me."

Kael looked at the shard, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Fear keeps you sharp."

"Do you even remember what just happened?" Jorah asked.

Kael glanced at him, eyes distant. "Some of it. Not all."

Jorah frowned. "Like what?"

Kael's smile faded. "My mother's name."

---

He closed his hand around the shard, the air pulsing once more.

Somewhere far away, the gods stirred.

The Rift was gone.

But a piece of Kael Vorrion had gone with it.

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