Cel stood frozen, breath still trapped in his chest.

'A world.'

The thought echoed through his mind, unable to settle into anything coherent. He'd just witnessed something that shouldn't exist - a pocket of reality where Esrin's will became absolute law. Where she didn't just fight. She dictated.

The ultimate ability a Chosen could reach - aside from ascending to Hallowed of course.

And this was the world of the strongest Chosen of the Empire.

His knees wanted to buckle. His hands trembled around Silent Moon's hilt.

Warmth flooded his mouth.

Cel coughed, and blood splattered across his palm. Even with the World dismissed, his body was still processing what it had endured.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing red across skin.

Above, on the city wall, chaos transformed into celebration.

"SHE DID IT!"

"THE HALLOWED IS HERE!"

Soldiers who'd been rigid with terror moments ago now pumped their fists in the air. Some embraced each other. Others simply collapsed against the battlements, relief making them boneless.

An officer's voice cut through the celebration. "THREE CHEERS FOR LADY ESRIN!"

"HAIL!"

"HAIL!"

"HAIL!"

The sound rolled across the field like thunder - raw, genuine gratitude from people who'd been seconds from death.

Esrin didn't acknowledge them. Her ruby eyes remained fixed on the rift, expression unreadable.

The violet tear in reality pulsed, steady and patient. Waiting.

Behind them, the city gates groaned open.

Cel turned, still wiping blood from his chin.

A group emerged from the widening gap. Chosen, by what they wore - artifacts that gleamed with more than mere craftsmanship, each piece marking its bearer as clearly as any banner.

Perhaps a dozen of them. The Chosen Legion's reserve force, stationed in the capital for exactly this purpose.

They fanned out across the field with practiced efficiency, moving toward the rift. Their eyes swept the empty grass, searching for possible threats.

Esrin's hand suddenly shot out, fingers closing on Cel's shoulder.

Before he could react, she pulled.

The world blurred. His feet left the ground. Wind screamed past his ears as she dragged him through the air like he weighed nothing.

They landed in the tree line perhaps two hundred steps from the rift - hidden among shadows and branches. The impact jarred his bones but he stayed upright, stumbling against a trunk.

"Stay here," Esrin said flatly. "And stay quiet."

"Why—"

"Because you're not supposed to be here." Her tone cut off any argument. "The Reckoning doesn't advertise its members. And I don't explain bringing random Academy students to active rift zones."

She stepped back, wings already spreading.

Then she was gone - launching into the air with a crack of displaced wind.

Cel watched her silhouette cross the moonlit sky, landing gracefully near the gathered Chosen. She spoke to a woman who saluted, gesturing toward the rift.

He crouched lower among the bushes, making himself small.

Because it was night, because he'd been hidden in shadow, because everything had happened so fast…

No one had seen him yet.

Even if a soldier had caught a glimpse of him, they had other concerns right now.

Cel settled deeper into the bushes, pulling his cloak tight. Silent Moon dissolved in his hand - no point keeping it manifested where the moonlight might catch the blade.

Minutes stretched.

The Chosen maintained their positions around the rift, vigilant and ready. But nothing came through. The violet tear simply hung there, waiting, while they watched with weapons ready for threats that didn't come.

Cel watched from his hiding spot, tracking their movements. Learning.

The sun hadn't risen, but the sky had shifted - deep black fading to navy at the edges. Pre-dawn. The coldest part of night.

The city gates opened again.

A small group emerged - four soldiers in metal armor, moving in tight formation. And within their protective square…

Civilians.

Cel's breath caught.

A middle-aged woman, her face carefully composed but cracking at the edges. A young child clinging to her hand, maybe six or seven, looking around with wide, confused eyes. And walking slightly ahead, an elderly person. Thin. Frail. Each step deliberate and measured.

They approached the rift.

The Chosen parted, making space. None of them met the civilians' eyes.

Twenty steps from the violet tear, the small group stopped. Soldiers stepped back, leaving the family alone.

The child tugged on the woman's sleeve.

Her composure shattered. One hand came up to cover her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks. She pulled her child close, pressing his face into her side.

The elderly person turned to face them.

He smiled. Sad. Proud. Utterly resigned.

The woman's shoulders shook with silent sobs, one arm wrapped around her child. The boy looked up at her, confusion deepening into fear even though he didn't understand why.

Cel understood.

'A sacrifice.'

A rift could only be closed by sending a living human through it. Just like the cult had used him. Just like they'd thrown him into the Hollow Realms to seal whatever tear bothered them.

The Empire had a policy. Anyone could volunteer. And in exchange, the royal family provided compensation for those left behind.

This elder was sacrificing himself for his family.

Cel's hands clenched in the dirt. His jaw locked so tight his teeth ached.

But that wasn't always the case. Sometimes people in utter despair - no family, no future, nothing to lose - volunteered in hope to gain the favor of the gods. A final act of meaning before their life ended.

And if no one volunteered…

Criminals were used.

But only rifts within the Empire's borders were closed. The rest? Left to fester. Left to pour horrors into the world until a different approach would be found.

The elder stepped forward, stopping just before the rift's edge.

A tremor ran through the his fingers. Small. Almost imperceptible. But Cel saw it - the only crack in the man's otherwise steady composure.

The man was… afraid.

How could he not be?

This wasn't just death. It was being torn apart by whatever waited on the other side. Ripped to pieces by creatures that existed to hunt and kill.

The elder glanced back.

The woman had collapsed to her knees, one arm still wrapped around her child, her other hand pressed against her mouth to muffle the sounds. Her son was crying now too, responding to distress he couldn't comprehend.

Behind them, the soldiers stood motionless. Professional. Distant. This wasn't the first sacrifice they'd witnessed. It wouldn't be the last.

The Chosen maintained their positions, weapons still drawn. Ready to strike down anything that might emerge the moment the elder passed through. They'd seen rifts betray their sacrifices before - seen creatures lunge through in the instant between entry and closure.

Something shifted in the elder's expression. Fear giving way to something else.

Not courage. Cel had seen courage in the soldiers on the wall - desperate, frantic, holding their ground against impossible odds.

This was different.

Acceptance. Resolution. The quiet certainty of someone who'd already made their peace with the end.

The elder's shoulders straightened. His breathing steadied.

He took one last look at his family - really looked, as if committing every detail to memory for whatever came after. The way his daughter clutched her son. The way moonlight caught in her tears. The way the boy's small hand gripped her sleeve.

Then he turned back to the rift.

His steps didn't falter. Didn't hesitate.

One.

Two.

Three.

He walked into the violet tear as if it were simply a doorway to another room.

One moment there. The next, gone.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

The rift hung in the air, unchanged. Still pulsing. Still waiting.

Then it shuddered.

The violet edges began to contract - slowly at first, then faster. Like a wound knitting itself, the tear pulled inward from all sides. The reality around it seemed to sigh with relief as the wrongness sealed itself away.

When it finally vanished completely, a deep silence followed.

Every Chosen around the now-empty space dropped to one knee. Heads bowed. Fists pressed to hearts in salute.

The soldiers on the wall did the same - a ripple of synchronized motion as hundreds of men and women honored the sacrifice.

Even Esrin knelt.

The only sounds were the woman's broken sobs and the child's confused crying as he pressed his face into his mother's shoulder.

Cel stayed hidden in the bushes, chest tight.

He'd died to seal a rift. Been thrown through by people who saw him as nothing but a convenient tool.

This elder had chosen it. Walked through with open eyes to save people he loved.

The difference burned.

Minutes passed before the Chosen rose. They moved away from the site with quiet efficiency, reforming their group. One of them approached the grieving woman, offering escort back to the city. Offering whatever comfort could be offered.

The soldiers on the wall began to disperse, returning to their posts. The celebration had long since died. Now there was just the weight of what they'd witnessed.

Esrin remained kneeling longer than the others.

When she finally rose, her expression was carved from stone.

She crossed the field in long strides, not toward the tree line but toward the gathered Chosen. They formed up around her - a loose formation that nonetheless placed her at the center.

The group began moving toward the city gates.

Cel stayed hidden in the bushes, watching them go.

He blinked.

‘Wait, what about me?’