Enter the Rift

Neon streaks and flickering glows smeared past as I pushed the car faster, trying to outrun the creeping dread.

It’s Hegemonic Hexcraft, Jack. The kind only the ruling class of the Otherworld use, the Elder Order. Demons of the highest power—nearly immortal. This type of Hexcraft is dark, Jack—potent, and cursed for all but royal blood. And the effects are only going to get worse as we near the Red Solstice.

“Why isn’t it affecting you, Frank?” I asked, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

Maybe because I’m already dead, he replied, his voice as cold as the grave. But for the Hexborn or any living demon, it’s a frenzy trigger merely seeing it.

Frank’s tone darkened. You need to be careful, Jack. That key is half of a bad puzzle. The kind that was locked up for a reason.

The effects of Cali’s drink were wearing off faster and faster, temporary relief giving way to that familiar gnawing hunger.

We need to find a rift. I can feel the hunger in you, and soon there’ll be nothing we can do about it. If we’re messing with this level of Hexcraft, people are in serious trouble. And we can’t have you going all rabid before we stop it.

“You really think this is gonna lead somewhere good?” I asked, the sound a rough whisper.

Not likely, Frank admitted. But it’s the only plan we’ve got. Without it, we’re dead in the water.

“Dead in the water,” I echoed, a grim smile tugging at my lips. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The car tore through the darkened streets, engine growling like a caged beast. The near full moon hung low on the horizon, a silent harbinger of the chaos brewing. Happens twice a year, the Red Solstice, when the fates flip a coin and choose sides, tipping the cosmic scales with her fickle fingers. The night was only two days away.

Whatever’s coming, it’s coming then. I’d bet my last dime on it.

The night stretched out before us, an endless expanse of dread. A gut feeling told me we were barreling toward something monstrous, something that should never be set free. The die was cast, and all we could do was keep driving, keep fighting, hoping that when the moment struck, we’d be ready for whatever was waiting.

Where can we find a rift? I thought.

Rifts were like bad luck—plenty when you didn’t need them, scarce when you did. I recalled the last place I saw one, a grim memory of Frank and the docks. Rifts had a habit of repeating, the fabric of reality thinning in certain spots.

We headed back to the docks where I last saw Jac and Jean. Never did get paid. I shrugged off the thought. The city’s labyrinthine streets and alleys were a twisted maze designed to trap us, but I knew the way to the docks by heart. Tonight, though, every turn felt like it was leading us straight into the devil’s jaws.

It feels close, Frank said.

I parked the car and stepped out, the night air biting against my sweat-soaked skin. Weapons in hand, I moved quietly. The lapping of the water against the dock kept a steady rhythm in the background.

There’s rift-soot here, Frank noted. Thank the saints for that.

We tracked the black smudges through the dock, faint and clinging to the ground like ash.

A noise. My muscles, already taut, stiffened further. I froze. Out of the shadows, Sarge trotted up casually, like he’d been part of this conversation the whole time.

“How the hell did you get here?” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “What are you doing by the docks, boy? You know there’s a rift nearby?”

Sarge nuzzled my leg, his fur brushing the edge of Frank—the jacket. Frank shifted uncomfortably, a low rumble vibrating in the leather.

I hate that dog.

“Yeah, well, tough luck,” I mumbled. Funny thing was, Sarge didn’t mind Frank. He trotted beside me as we pressed on, my body teetering between feral and collapse.

The familiar blur in the air came into view ahead, shimmering like heat haze. No beasts nearby. That’s a relief.

I approached the rift cautiously, every dying nerve in my body screaming in protest. Sarge, unfazed, stuck by my side.

“Listen, boy,” I knelt, vision swimming. “You can’t come with me in there. Stay.”

He barked softly in protest.

“I’ll be fine,” I lied. He whined. Sarge knew better.

We went way back. He wasn’t mine—he was everyone’s dog, the town’s unofficial mascot. Even the pound knew better than to mess with him.

“Tell you what,” I ruffled his ears, “stay here, and when I get back, I’ll dig up some treats from the car.”

His mouth started to water at the word.

I held out a hand. “Deal?”

He stared, wide-eyed. I grabbed his paw and shook it. “Deal.”

Jack, what in Satan’s asscrack—it’s a dog. We need to move.

I gave Sarge a final pat, but my thoughts were fogging over, slow and heavy like molasses. “You know, Frank,” I slurred, “if you don’t have anything bad to say... don’t say it.” The words tumbled out wrong, my tongue thick in my mouth. “That’s what my mother always saids...”

Frank hissed in irritation, but I was too far gone to care.

The ground shifted beneath me, tilting in ways it shouldn’t. I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled, trying to pull the pieces together, but it was like grasping smoke. Time was slipping. Better get this over with.

Hold on, Jack, Frank’s voice urged, wrapping himself tighter around me, his presence a buffer against the rift’s disorienting effects.

The rift was a swirling vortex, a tear in reality that defied all logic. I steeled myself and stepped through, Frank’s comforting weight grounding me as the world shifted and twisted around us.

Beyond the rift, the landscape twisted and churned in a chaotic dance of color and form, never settling into anything recognizable. The sky, a sickly green streaked with inky black, gaped like an ancient, hungry maw. Beneath my feet, the ground writhed and squirmed as if alive, and trees with gnarled branches clawed at the sky, their leaves glowing with an eerie bioluminescence.

The air, thick as molasses, carried the stench of decay mixed with a sickly sweet rot, underpinned by a familiar sulfurous reek. Every step was a struggle, as if wading through knee-high mud, the oppressive atmosphere pressing down, trying to crush my spirit. The ground, cracked and red like a desert scorched by eternal flames, shifted beneath me. Each breath was inhaling shards of glass. The uneven terrain was littered with jagged rocks.

This was a bad idea.

Looking back, the rift into my world was nearly out of sight.

Get it together, Jack. You’re losing it, Frank snapped in my head, but his voice was distant, like it was coming from underwater.

“I’m fine... I just...” I muttered to no one. The words sounded strange, muffled. I blinked hard, trying to clear the haze, but the dizziness only got worse. My legs wobbled. Everything felt... woozy.

Stay focused, Frank’s voice pushed through the chaos. We’re here for a reason. Remember that.

I nodded, taking a deep breath, and pressed on. The Otherworld twisted perceptions, warping reality until the path ahead was a haze. There was no turning back now.

We need to find Nightstone, I thought, feeling my control slipping as the hunger grew more insistent. I was losing it.

We trekked through the desolate wasteland, every step a battle against the oppressive heat and my own weakening body. Shadows flitted at the edge of my vision, monstrous shapes watching from a distance, their eyes gleaming with malevolent curiosity.

It’s quiet here, Frank observed. Too quiet.

I nodded, my mind slipping into memories of the past. It had been years since I’d crossed a rift. Back in the war, we were crazy enough to use them for transportation, despite the dangers. But we had protective suits then and artifacts to ward off the worst effects. Space worked differently here. One rift could lead to another across the world, or just a block away.

Lost a lot of good men in the rift, I remembered, a pang of guilt twisting in my chest.

The only reason to venture into this hellish place now was to mine or treasure hunt. I pushed forward; the landscape sapped my energy and willpower. Like walking through a red desert, each step draining my life force. The hunger grew, a feral beast gnawing at my insides. Exhaustion wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, pulling me down.

You have to focus, Jack. Don’t stop walking, Frank’s voice was a distant murmur. Death in the rift, when not at the hands of beasts, can come without notice or fanfare, simply sucking the remaining life from you. It’s dying in ice, Jack.

The world spun slowly, a dream I was slipping out of, and for a second, I wasn’t sure if I was standing or falling. I looked down.

Still standing. That’s good.

Why did I come here?

What am I doing?

This feels like a terrible place to die. The world spun as my mind teetered on the brink of delirium.

We are almost there, Jack. Stay with me. I can sense a deposit of Nightstone just over that ridge.

I tried to keep my feet beneath me. But it was too much. The world swirled, and dry earth greeted me with a warm embrace.

Get up, Jack. If you don’t get up, you’ll die.