the Rift
There is a place that exists between seconds; between thoughts and between worlds. A Rift in time, where forgotten ideas and unfinished dreams collect like pooled rainwater. Where unfinished spells and undone nightmares gather when pounding hearts break their hold in other realms.
Such a place is called the Rift.
And for a time, the Rift was in balance.
Bit by bit, it lost its grounding. The light lost its traction. The shadows grew teeth.
Its inhabitants called out in prayers, asked for salvation from their corrupted Gods: their cries were heard by foreign deities, who came in force, wrenching lands from the Rift and into the light of Helovia. Together, Helovians and Riftians murdered the corrupted Gods.
And so the Rift began to fade: godless and heartless, the very earth bled out its magic in a slow and painful death.
Alas, that was not the end of the Rift. The stubborn, dead Gods coalesced into Kisamoa, an immortal, immoral creature with a single purpose pulsing through his divine soul: revive the Rift. He killed the Helovian Gods, opened a Portal to the Rift, and pulled the inhabitants into it, hoping to cure and revive his lands.
Though some parts of the Rift were lost as it was dying, much still remains. The Rift is still sick, however, and only time will tell how it heals.
Will
you help it heal?