Darkness devoured him.
The moment Eliar had stepped into the portal, he had been pulled into an endless freefall.
It wasn't falling through space — it was falling through existence itself.
Colors he had no name for blurred past his vision.
Sound twisted into shapes.
Reality bent and screamed.
And then, suddenly—
Silence.
Eliar gasped and stumbled forward.
Solid ground caught his boots — but it was unlike anything he had ever stood on before.
He looked around, heart pounding.
A sky of swirling black and violet stretched overhead, stars blinking like ancient, dying embers.
The ground beneath him was a smooth obsidian plain, cracked with glowing silver veins.
In the distance, towers of crystal and bone rose into the heavens, half-ruined, half-floating.
A world abandoned by time.
Eliar shivered.
The portal behind him flickered once — and vanished.
He was alone.
Completely, utterly alone.
He touched the hilt of his sword, feeling its familiar weight.
Stay calm, he told himself. Think.
First step: Find shelter. Find answers.
Second step: Survive.
Third step: Find a way back.
He thought of Selene, captured — maybe worse — and his hands clenched into fists.
"I will come back," he muttered under his breath.
"I swear it."
Hours passed as he wandered.
The landscape shifted subtly as he walked — ridges forming where none had been before, shadows moving without a source.
It was like the world itself was... watching him.
At one point, he saw a massive skeleton half-buried in black sand — a dragon, or something far worse, its ribcage large enough to house a village.
Strange whispering winds tugged at his cloak.
And always, always — the feeling of being hunted.
Eventually, he reached the base of a shattered tower.
It pulsed with a faint blue light.
Cautiously, Eliar entered.
Inside, the air was warm and still.
Glowing runes floated along the cracked walls.
And at the center — resting atop a stone pedestal — was a map.
Or at least, something like a map.
It showed the world he was in, vast and broken, divided into Quadrants —
and at the very center, a symbol burned brighter than all the others: a shattered crown surrounded by dragons.
The Fifth Quadrant.
Eliar stared at it grimly.
He wasn't ready yet.
He needed strength.
Allies.
Power.
Only then could he dare approach the Fifth Quadrant — where legends said the Sleeper of Stars still dreamed.
A sudden noise made him spin around, sword half-drawn.
From the shadows, a creature emerged.
It looked almost human — tall, lean — but its skin shimmered like mercury, and its eyes were pure black.
It wore ragged robes and carried a crooked staff.
"New blood," it hissed, voice like cracking ice.
"From the Waking World... rare, so rare..."
"Who are you?" Eliar demanded.
The creature smiled — a horrible, broken thing.
"I am a Warden," it said. "And you... are prey."
Without warning, the Warden attacked.
Eliar barely dodged the first strike — the staff humming with deadly energy.
He countered, moving on instinct, blade flashing — but the Warden was fast, impossibly fast.
Their battle raged through the broken tower, magic and steel clashing again and again.
Eliar knew he couldn't keep this up.
He was skilled — but here, in this broken world, the rules were different.
The Warden laughed, sensing his weakness.
And then — from the depths of the tower — a low, rumbling roar shook the ground.
Both Eliar and the Warden froze.
The Warden's eyes widened in terror.
"No..." it whispered. "Not it... not now..."
Before Eliar could react, the ground beneath the Warden split open — and a massive clawed hand shot out, dragging the creature screaming into the depths.
Silence fell once more.
Eliar stood there, heart pounding.
And then — from the cracked floor — a massive, reptilian head slowly rose.
A dragon.
But not like the ones from old tales.
This dragon was armored in silver and black scales, its eyes burning with a deep, ancient intelligence.
Chains wrapped its body — chains made of light, etched with runes of binding.
And yet, even bound, its presence shook the very air.
The dragon gazed at Eliar — and then, it spoke.
"You... are not of this world."
"Yet you bear the scent of the Forgotten Flame..."
"Will you forge the pact, mortal? Or will you fall like the others?"
Eliar tightened his grip on his sword.
"I don't even know what you're talking about," he said hoarsely.
The dragon rumbled, a sound like a thousand storms.
"Then learn."
With a sweep of its tail, the dragon shattered the remnants of the tower — revealing a path of black stone leading deeper into the heart of this strange world.
The dragon lowered its head, eyes gleaming.
"Follow... if you dare."
Eliar stared at the path.
Behind him was nothing but ruin.
Ahead — the unknown.
He clenched his fists.
Selene.
The others.
If there was even the slightest chance that forging this pact could give him the strength to return and save them —
He would take it.
He took a step forward.
And the world shifted once again.
[To be continued...]