I have watched gateways open like wounds in reality, and I have watched mortals step through them believing they were still themselves. They rarely are.
When Erias crossed the threshold, the world did not blur.
It hardened.
Stone beneath his boots. Smoke in his lungs. Iron in the air.
He stood atop a castle wall.
Not the Sanctuary. Not the forest. Not Vvralis as he knew it.
This was war.
Below him stretched a battlefield lit by fire and moonlight. Siege towers burned in the distance, their frames collapsing inward as arrows and stones rained down from the walls. Ladders lay shattered against the stone, bodies tangled beneath them. The clash of steel echoed endlessly, as if the night itself were forged from blades.
Erias' mind reeled.
Who am I?
The thought rose and slipped away like smoke through fingers.
He looked down at himself.
Armor. Worn, dented, stained with blood that was not entirely his own. The tabard he wore bore the emblem of a minor house of Arathen: House Caldrin, a silver tower split by a vertical flame. The sigil felt familiar in the way a name does when spoken often, even if its meaning is forgotten.
A shout cut through the chaos.
"My lord!"
A soldier stumbled toward him, helmet dented, eyes wide with exhaustion. He bore the same emblem on his shoulder.
"What are your orders?" the man asked. "Captain Vaelor says the eastern wall won't hold much longer."
The name struck something loose.
Vaelor.
Not his own name.
Another surfaced instead, heavy and ancient.
"Blade Sereth," the soldier said urgently, using it like a title. "What do we do?"
Blade of Torvas.
The words settled into Erias' bones as if they had always been there.
"We hold," Erias heard himself say, voice steady despite the storm inside him. "Hold the walls. The Church will come. Reinforcements will come. This castle does not fall tonight."
The soldier exhaled in relief, nodded sharply, and ran to relay the command.
Night dragged on in blood and fire.
By dawn, the siege had slowed. The enemy withdrew just beyond bow range, leaving the field littered with the dead. Smoke hung low over the land, and the castle walls were scarred, cracked, and blackened, but they still stood.
Erias walked the battlements as the sun rose weakly through the haze.
He stepped over shattered arrows and broken shields, past men slumped where they stood, asleep from exhaustion rather than safety. He saw the damage clearly now. Sections of wall barely holding. Towers weakened. Supplies dwindling.
This castle was dying slowly.
A knight approached, helm tucked under his arm. His sigil marked him as sworn to House Caldrin as well.
"My lord," he said, bowing. "The castellan requests your presence."
Erias nodded. "Lead the way."
They descended from the walls into the heart of the keep.
Inside, the cost of the siege was impossible to ignore.
Wounded soldiers lay on pallets lining the corridors, priests moving among them with bandages already soaked through. Civilians huddled in corners, hollow-eyed, clutching scraps of food. Children cried without tears, too tired even for fear.
Hunger had already begun its work.
They reached the lord's chamber.
The castellan rose from his chair as erias entered. He was an older man, beard streaked with gray, eyes rimmed red from sleepless nights.
"Blade Sereth," he said, bowing deeply. "You honor us."
Erias inclined his head but did not sit.
"Tell me," the lord asked, forcing calm into his voice, "how long until the siege breaks?"
Erias did not answer.
Silence stretched.
The lord turned away, pacing to the window overlooking the battlefield. His shoulders sagged.
"The royal house should have sent troops by now," he said bitterly. "We are Arathen. We are loyal. And yet we bleed alone."
Erias stepped closer. "The Church should have arrived as well. If neither has come, something delays them. That does not mean they have abandoned you."
The lord laughed softly, without humor.
"The king should never have gone to war with Vraethal," he said. "We were not ready. And now this castle will be the first to fall."
The doors burst open.
A soldier rushed in, breathless, face alight.
"My lord! Reinforcements! The Church of Torvas has arrived!"
The lord spun. "What?"
"They march under the flame," the soldier said. "Knights of Torvas. Priests. They're rallying the men even now."
Hope crashed into the room like a wave.
The lord turned to Erias. "Blade… should we strike? Now, while the enemy regroups?"
Erias did not answer immediately.
He walked past them, out onto the wall once more.
Below, banners bearing the flame of Torvas rose among the weary defenders. Priests moved through the ranks, hands glowing faintly as wounds were bound and spirits lifted. Knights formed lines with disciplined precision.
These soldiers had followed him through hell.
He raised his voice.
"My soldiers!"
They turned as one.
"You have defended this castle with your lives," Erias called. "You have kept it from falling into enemy hands. You stand here not because you were ordered to but because you chose to."
He drew his blade.
"You alone have held the line. And now you will break it."
A roar answered him.
"Yes!"
Erias lifted his sword higher. "We march. We strike now. For Arathen!"
The gates opened.
They advanced.
As they neared the Vraethal encampment, Erias turned to a knight of Torvas and a knight of House Caldrin.
"Can we win?" he asked.
Both answered without hesitation.
"Yes. We have a Blade."
Erias charged.
The world surged forward
And shattered.
I cut away from steel and fire to something older.
Despair stood within her realm, shadows folding like curtains around her.
She summoned Ulmare.
The ashen one emerged, kneeling instantly, her form composed of pale embers and quiet sorrow.
"My lady," Ulmare said. "What is your will?"
"I must leave," Despair replied. "Guard the realm."
Ulmare bowed. "It will be done."
Despair stepped beyond her domain and appeared at the edge of another.
Storms raged there. Thought and dream clashed like oceans.
Dream felt her before she spoke.
"What do you want?" he asked, voice echoing across his realm.
"Let me in," Despair said. "We need to speak."
Seros stood beside Dream, silent.
Dream hesitated.
Seros lowered her gaze. "You have nothing to lose by listening."
Dream exhaled.
The barrier parted.
Despair stepped into his realm.
Storms gathered overhead.
She looked at him and spoke:
"Dream, child of night… we have much to discuss."
And the storm answered.
The gateway had not finished with Erias.
Nor with the world.