Rift
By entering the portal, will blood be shed against her intentions?
In the secret room I sit, facing the anomaly, a rip in reality. It billows and aches with light the colour of blood. The sweet yearning of it’s voice can be heard in the mind. I meditate to prepare for the bell chime of my soul. When it rings, I will stand and enter. The rift speaks to me, merging it’s history with my own, joining the points of my earnest studies.
Three millennia prior it comes into being, by the hands of a desperate man. He is known as Eckhardt the Coward because he refuses to follow the emperor’s command and take his own life. Hunted across the Great Glacier for three days without rest, he uses ancient magic of the void to tear a hole in existence. But in fatigue and anguish he casts the wrong spell. The anomaly is born. Eckhardt enters and is not seen again in that age. Records in the Great Library tell of a lord who appears ‘from the dust’ and rules with old magic for a century. The account is from the land of Blovgeld, thousands of miles and hundreds of years away from the point of Eckhardt’s vanishing. This ruler bears the same name and is fair-skinned in a dark-skinned land. Mention is made of ‘a great fracture in time’. A loose end.
For many centuries the anomaly remains undisturbed above the glacier, which melts over time as the age of ice recedes. The glacier gone, the rift hangs far above…
