Hollow Monarch - Riftborn

The pain was unbearable.

Kael's body convulsed as the Rift Sigil burned into him. It wasn't just physical pain—it was something deeper, something that clawed at his very essence. His veins felt like they were unraveling, his thoughts splitting into countless voices, each whispering in a language he barely understood.

And amidst it all, the weight of what he had just done pressed down on him.

The boy's lifeless eyes stared up at him, frozen in shock. Blood still dripped from Kael's trembling hands, warm against his cold skin.

A part of him recoiled.

Another part—something darker, something foreign—accepted it.

> You have been marked.

The voice slithered into his skull, ancient and hollow. It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It bypassed his ears entirely, speaking directly to something deeper—his soul, his mind, or whatever remained of it after the Rift had touched him.

Kael gasped for air, his throat dry, his body trembling as he pressed a hand to his chest. The burning sensation began to fade, but it left something behind. An emptiness. A hollow, gnawing hunger that hadn't been there before.

He wasn't normal anymore.

Something had changed.

Something had been taken.

Something had been given.

Kael clenched his fists. He had survived—but at a cost he couldn't yet understand.

The Rift had chosen him.

---

The Aftermath

Kael forced himself to move, pushing past the throbbing pain that spread through his body. He couldn't stay here. The eerie ruins around him stretched into the distance, bathed in a dim, unnatural light. The broken moon fragments above cast strange shadows, twisting reality into something unrecognizable.

The air was thick. Heavy.

Not just with the stench of blood—but with something else. A lingering presence. The thing in the mist had vanished, but its imprint remained, as though the world itself had been stained by its passing.

Kael's fingers twitched. He needed to get out of here.

His legs were unsteady as he rose. The remains of the boy lay at his feet, his blood pooling into the cracks of the ruined ground. Kael's stomach churned, but he didn't look away.

What was the point? Guilt wouldn't change anything.

He took a step forward—and nearly collapsed as a vision tore through his mind.

---

A Glimpse into the Rift

He saw flashes.

A great chasm, bottomless and writhing with shadows.

Figures in tattered robes, whispering in tongues long forgotten.

A monstrous city built upon the bones of the dead, towers of flesh and stone stretching toward the shattered sky.

And then—himself.

Standing at the edge of it all. A king among horrors, crowned in darkness.

The vision vanished as quickly as it came, leaving Kael gasping for breath. His heart hammered against his ribs. What was that?

Had he seen the future?

Or was the Rift playing with his mind?

A bitter taste rose in his throat. He had never believed in destiny, but the Rift didn't care about beliefs. It only took, reshaped, and devoured.

Kael exhaled sharply. Focus.

Dwelling on it wouldn't help him now. He had to figure out where he was, what had happened, and most importantly—how to survive.

---

A Strange New Power

As Kael steadied himself, he noticed something strange.

The pain in his body was still there, but it was duller now, as if something was numbing it. His senses felt sharper, his surroundings clearer.

Experimenting, he reached out with his mind—and felt something respond.

A presence. Faint, but familiar.

The Rift Sigil wasn't just a brand. It connected him to something beyond this world.

Closing his eyes, he focused.

For a brief moment, he could see beyond the physical—a web of unseen forces, threads of power that pulsed beneath reality's surface. He could feel them, sense them shifting, like the faint brush of fingers on the edge of his perception.

It was fleeting, but it was enough to confirm one thing.

He had changed.

And he was no longer powerless.

A quiet voice inside him whispered a question he didn't want to answer. What if power came with a price? What if the Rift had taken something he wouldn't notice until it was too late?

A slow, cold breath left his lips.

The Rift hadn't just marked him.

It had claimed him.

---

The Ruined City

Kael took one last look at the boy's corpse before moving on.

The ruins stretched in every direction, remnants of a once-great city now swallowed by the Rift. Towering structures stood half-collapsed, vines of blackened tendrils weaving through stone and steel.

The silence was oppressive.

Kael remained alert, every instinct screaming that he wasn't alone. He moved carefully, navigating through the wreckage, scanning for signs of life—or danger.

His feet crunched over shattered glass and bone-dry rubble. The buildings here weren't just ruined. They had been twisted—some slanting at unnatural angles, others partially melted, as if reality itself had warped.

And then, in the distance, he saw it.

A faint glow.

Fires burning in the ruins.

Civilization.

His pulse quickened. If people were here, it meant there was a way out.

Or a deeper trap.

Either way, he had no choice.

Kael narrowed his eyes, studying the distant flickers of light. No movement yet. But that didn't mean there was no danger. He'd learned the hard way that fire could mean safety—or a beacon for something worse.

> "Don't trust the light."

The whisper was faint. Different from before.

Kael tensed. This one wasn't coming from inside his mind.

It was coming from the ruins themselves.

A breeze stirred, carrying a distant sound—a slow, deliberate scraping, like claws dragging over stone. It was faint. Almost easy to dismiss.

Almost.

His breath slowed as he scanned the darkness. The buildings loomed over him like silent sentinels. Empty windows gaped like watchful eyes.

And for a moment, just a fleeting instant—he thought he saw something.

A figure. Standing in the distance, barely visible through the mist.

Watching.

Then—gone.

Kael's jaw tightened. His grip flexed.

> "Welcome home."