Twenty-four hours remained.
That was all the time left before we would be deployed to Arkael, before our embers would be ignited. The thought made my chest tighten with equal parts excitement and fear. Tomorrow would decide everything. We would either die the moment we set foot inside, or survive long enough to face the brutal reality of what it truly meant to be a riftborn.
I was already packing the things I would need. Ten purge needles were carefully secured, their cold weight a constant reminder of how fragile my sanity could become. My corruption gauge had been augmented into a brace-like armor wrapped around my left arm, its presence both reassuring and ominous.
I added what food supplies I could carry. We were allowed to bring items with us, but I knew better than to rely on them. Even if I rationed carefully, they would never last a full month in Arkael. Survival there would demand adaptation, not comfort.
That was why I spent so much of my remaining time buried in books, studying Arkael's ecosystems as best I could, even though the records were incomplete and fragmented. Every page felt like a lifeline, every scrap of knowledge a thin layer of protection against the unknown.
I also pushed my body harder than ever, training past exhaustion and stealing extra hours during the lights-out period. My muscles screamed, my joints ached, but I welcomed the pain. If my body failed me in Arkael, there would be no recovery room, no second chances without cost.
Tomorrow, all of this preparation would either matter, or it would mean nothing at all.
I stepped outside to take a breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs. Around me, several recruits were already packing their essentials, their movements hurried yet careful, as if every item they touched carried weight beyond its size. Bags were opened and closed, straps tightened, hands trembling just slightly when they thought no one was watching.
Death was certain to be our companion, but it was not the blade or the beast that frightened me most. Our closest enemy would be the constant exposure to the living corruption Arkael breathed into everything. It seeped into the air, the land, and the mind. That corruption would be our most faithful form of death, slow, patient, and always present.
In the distance, I could see the veterans. One hundred fifty riftborns, hardened by cycles of descent and return, were being briefed separately. Their postures were different from ours. Calm. Grounded. As if fear had already burned out of them long ago, leaving only discipline behind. Their weapons were worn, not polished. Their armor carried scars that no one bothered to hide.
Whispers moved through the recruits like a bad wind.
It turns out the danger rate this year was the highest ever recorded.
Ninety nine point nine nine nine nine percent.
The number did not feel real at first. It was too absolute, too close to certainty. Yet the silence that followed its announcement made it sink in. Some recruits laughed quietly, the kind of laugh that tried to deny reality. Others went pale. A few simply stared at their hands, as if wondering how long they would still belong to them.
I swallowed and looked up at the sky. Even here, far from Arkael, it felt heavy.
If the danger was this high, then survival would not be about skill alone. It would be about will. About how long we could keep ourselves intact before corruption decided otherwise.
Tomorrow, we would find out who among us could endure.
Then morning came.
The moment I opened my eyes, something seized me.
My body felt like it was being pulled downward, as if an unseen current had wrapped itself around my limbs and was slowly dragging me away. The weight was unbearable. My chest tightened and my breath came out ragged, shallow, each inhale scraping my throat like I was breathing through wet cloth.
I tried to move my fingers. They responded, but sluggishly, as if they were buried under layers of invisible restraint. Every motion felt wrong, delayed, heavy, like I was tied to something vast and unseen.
My vision wavered.
The edges of the room blurred, bending inward. The ceiling looked farther away than it should have been, stretching as though depth itself had become unstable. A dull pressure pressed behind my eyes, urging them closed. Rest whispered to me. Sleep. Just for a moment.
Then the speakers roared to life.
"To all new riftborn, fight the current feeling you have right now."
The voice echoed through the barracks, sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze in my head.
"This is the start of the veil opening."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"I repeat, fight it. Do not close your eyes into slumber."
My eyelids trembled. They burned, dry and aching, like sand had been rubbed beneath them. I forced them wider, staring at the wall in front of me, focusing on the smallest crack in the plaster just to anchor myself.
"The moment you take a second to even blink…"
The pull intensified.
My stomach churned. The floor felt like it was tilting, my sense of balance slipping away. A low hum filled my ears, deep and distant, like something enormous breathing just beneath reality.
"You are inside Arkael."
Panic surged through me. I dug my nails into my palms, welcoming the sting. Pain grounded me. I counted my breaths, one by one, even as they came uneven and fast.
"Again, at all costs, do not blink until the feeling is gone."
Around me, I could hear it. Ragged breathing from other rooms. Someone choking back a sob. A muffled scream cut short too quickly.
"Do not blink for five minutes."
Five minutes felt impossible.
Tears welled up, blurring my vision, threatening to spill over and force my eyes shut. My neck trembled from the strain. My whole body shook as the invisible pull tugged harder, like Arkael itself was reaching through the veil, impatient, hungry.
I clenched my jaw and stared harder, refusing to let my eyelids fall.
Not yet.
Not like this.
My eyelids throbbed like bruised flesh.
They fluttered on their own, betraying me in tiny spasms, each one sending a spike of terror through my spine. The instinct to blink was no longer a suggestion. It was a command, drilled straight into my nerves, ancient and absolute.
My vision fractured.
The walls of the dorm rippled, breathing in and out as if the room itself were alive. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, pooling in corners that had no right to be that dark. I tasted metal at the back of my tongue, sharp and bitter, and my head rang with a low pressure that felt like fingers pressing in from the inside of my skull.
Don't blink.
My eyes burned so badly it felt like needles were being pushed beneath the lids. Tears streamed freely now, blurring everything into smears of light and color. I forced my stare onto the door handle, its dull reflection warped and trembling. I counted the scratches on its surface. One. Two. Three. Four. Anything to keep my focus anchored to this side of reality.
The pull worsened.
My body felt hollow, as if something was scooping me out from the inside. My limbs went cold, numb at the edges, while my core burned with panic. The floor beneath me seemed to sink, my sense of weight shifting as though gravity itself was unsure where it belonged.
A whisper brushed against my ears.
Not a sound, not truly, but a pressure, a presence. An invitation. The air thickened, heavy and damp, carrying a scent I did not recognize, like wet earth mixed with old blood. My stomach lurched.
Shapes moved at the edge of my vision.
I knew better than to look, yet they crawled closer anyway. Tall silhouettes, warped and wrong, bending at angles no body should bend. When I tried to focus on them, my eyes rebelled, vision smearing until the shapes dissolved into shadows again.
Blink.
The word throbbed through my head in time with my heartbeat.
My neck sagged forward despite me screaming inside for it not to. My eyelids drooped, heavy as stone. Darkness crept in from the edges of my sight, swallowing the room inch by inch.
No. No. No.
I bit down on my tongue.
Pain exploded through my mouth, hot and immediate. Blood filled my mouth, coppery and thick. I gagged, gasping, but the shock snapped my eyes wide open again. Fresh tears poured down my face, stinging as they ran into my mouth and mixed with blood.
The room snapped back into focus, but it was worse now.
The walls no longer felt solid. They shimmered like a thin membrane stretched over something vast and moving behind it. I swore I saw cracks forming, hairline fractures glowing faintly, as if another sky waited just beyond.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Every second stretched endlessly. Time slowed to a crawl, each breath a battle, each heartbeat a countdown. My eyes screamed for relief, my body begged for surrender, but fear was stronger.
Because I knew.
The moment my eyes closed, even for a fraction of a second, I would not wake up here again.
I would wake up in Arkael.