The deeper they ventured into the wastelands, the quieter the world became.
Not the quiet of peace—this was the silence that pressed against the bones. No wind. No birds. No life. Just ruins twisted by time, sunken buildings like broken teeth, and black vines curling along scorched earth-like veins under pale skin.
Valen Creed walked at the front of the rebel team, every step drawing him toward something wrong.
They hadn't spoken much since the Ashlands strike. Not because of tension—but because of the hum.
A strange vibration had been pulsing in the air since morning. It was faint at first, like static at the edge of hearing. Now, it buzzed softly inside their skulls, a low rhythm no one wanted to admit they heard.
"Almost there," Kira muttered, her voice unusually tight. She had led dozens of missions and never looked shaken. But today, her hand stayed too long on the hilt of her knife.
Valen didn't blame her.
Ahead of them, embedded in the heart of a ruined stadium, stood the Riftborn obelisk.
It was not made of stone or metal—but something in between. It throbbed with an internal light, veins of green and black energy crawling across its surface like scars. The air around it bent slightly, as though it breathed.
Valen stopped in his tracks.
And the whispers began.
⸻
The Voice
It didn't speak in words—not at first. Just feelings. A deep chill. A press behind his eyes. Then a hum turned into a sound.
Then a name.
Valen.
He stiffened, but no one else reacted.
Valen…
It was soft. Curious. Almost… gentle.
But there was something beneath it. Something sharp.
He turned to the others.
"Do you hear that?"
Lira blinked at him. "The hum?"
"No. A voice."
Kira raised an eyebrow. "What kind of voice?"
Valen hesitated. "It said my name."
The team exchanged glances. Lira shifted her weight nervously.
"We're not alone," she muttered.
Kira motioned for silence. "Eyes up. Keep moving."
They stepped closer to the obelisk, weapons drawn. The black monolith towered over them now, taller than any building still standing in the area. Strange symbols shimmered across its surface, flickering like dying fireflies.
Then the pulse came.
A wave of energy exploded from the obelisk—soundless, invisible—but everyone felt it.
Valen stumbled.
Lira cried out and dropped to her knees.
⸻
Corruption
"Lira!" Valen shouted, rushing to her side.
Her eyes were wide, glazed with a sickly green glow. She was trembling, muttering under her breath. No… not muttering. Repeating.
"They see… they see through me… I see them… they're inside…"
Valen gripped her shoulders. "Lira! Look at me!"
The whispers filled his ears again.
She is weak. She is open. She is yours to break or save.
He clenched his teeth, trying to block it out. "No. Shut up."
You hear us. You were made to.
He focused on Lira. Her breathing was shallow. Her hands were clawing at her face.
Valen didn't think.
He acted.
His hand lit up with Echo.
He placed his palm against her chest and let the energy flow—not as a weapon, not as a shield—but as a tether.
His Echo wrapped around her like a net, pulling her back from whatever was dragging her under.
She gasped—then let out a ragged scream—and collapsed into him, unconscious but breathing.
The whispers faded.
Valen's heart pounded.
Kira was at his side now, face pale. "What the hell was that?"
Valen didn't answer right away.
Instead, he looked up at the obelisk.
And for a moment, he saw something behind the surface.
A reflection of himself.
But older.
Taller.
His eyes completely black, with green cracks across his skin.
Watching him.
And smiling.
⸻
The Obelisk Speaks
They dragged Lira back from the obelisk's range and gave her water. She woke, groggy and shaken, but her eyes were clear again.
"I saw… things," she whispered. "Something trying to rewrite me."
Valen sat near her, hand still tingling from the Echo surge.
Kira stood facing the obelisk.
"This thing's not a supply node," she muttered. "It's a Core. A Riftborn psychic anchor. It's not just transmitting energy—it's sending messages."
"Or commands," Valen said quietly.
Kira nodded. "We've seen traces of these before, but never this active. Never this loud."
Valen didn't look away from the monolith.
"It knew me. It spoke to me."
Kira glanced back. "You sure it was the Core? Could be your Mark acting up again."
Valen held out his arm.
The Mark of Extinction was pulsing faintly—green veins snaking farther up than before.
"I'm not sure there's a difference anymore," he admitted.
⸻
Decision Point
They camped for the night inside the skeleton of an old gymnasium, just out of the Core's reach. The obelisk still loomed on the horizon, glowing faintly in the dark like a watching eye.
Lira slept restlessly under a blanket, shivering despite the fire.
Valen sat nearby, his sword across his lap.
Kira approached him with two mugs of hot water and sat beside him.
"You okay?" she asked.
Valen nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About the voice?"
"About why it wants me."
She sipped her drink. "You're different. Your Echo isn't just reacting. It's responding. Evolving mid-combat, warping space, tethering another mind… You're becoming something the Riftborn might fear."
"Or something they want to control," he muttered.
Kira didn't disagree.
"You think I'm losing myself," he said.
"I think you're walking a very thin line," she replied. "But you pulled Lira back. That means you're still on our side."
Valen stared into the fire.
"Yeah," he whispered. "For now."
⸻
Final Thoughts
As the flames crackled and the others slept, Valen rose and walked toward the edge of the camp.
The obelisk pulsed again in the distance.
He could hear it—not as a whisper this time, but as a presence.
Waiting.
Calling.
He didn't answer.
But he didn't walk away either.
He stood there for a long time, the wind brushing ash against his cloak, the Mark on his arm pulsing with each beat of his heart.
The war was changing.
And so was he.