Luna (The Alchemist)


    The Verdant Wilds stretched out in a vibrant tapestry of flora, the air alive with the hum of unseen energy. Luna knelt in a secluded grove, her gloved hands gently uprooting a cluster of Lunarroot, its silver-veined leaves shimmering under the dappled sunlight. Around her, a few members of The Gamer, Kyle’s guild, moved with practiced efficiency, collecting rare herbs and materials.


    Luna wasn’t a member of Kyle’s guild, but their paths often overlapped. As an Alchemist, her craft relied heavily on the celestial botanicals that Kyle, a Celestial Botanist, could cultivate. Their professional synergy had forged a working relationship that neither had anticipated but both had come to rely on. And like Kyle, Luna had been here from the beginning—since the game’s launch. A year in Eidolon had passed, and yet, lately, it felt like the world was holding its breath.


    She glanced at the sky, her brow furrowing. The air was too still. Even the wildlife, usually a comforting cacophony of sound, seemed quieter than usual.


    “Something’s off today,” one of the guild members murmured, a rogue named Petra, breaking the uneasy silence.


    “You’re just spooked because of the Rift quest,” another member, a healer named Lirien, replied. She tried to sound dismissive, but the nervous undertone in her voice betrayed her.


    Luna straightened, wiping her hands on her cloak as she spoke. “It’s not just today. Nature’s been… different. Like it’s waiting for something.” She reached for her satchel, pulling out a few vials to store the harvested Lunarroot.


    Lirien tilted her head, frowning. “Different how?”


    Luna hesitated, her gaze scanning the grove as though expecting it to shift under her scrutiny. “It’s subtle. Plants reacting to things they shouldn’t—blooming out of season, shifting in ways that don’t make sense. And it’s not just the flora. Animals, too. Even the earth itself feels like it’s alive.”


    Petra arched an eyebrow. “Alive? Come on, Luna, you’ve been spending too much time in those arcane fumes of yours.”


    But Luna ignored the jab, her thoughts drifting to the anomalies she’d been noticing for weeks. At first, she’d dismissed them as tricks of the mind—quirks of Eidolon’s deeply immersive world. But the patterns had grown harder to ignore. Trees whose branches twisted as though reaching for unseen figures. Rivers whose currents whispered words that dissolved before they could be understood. And now, the stillness—pregnant, as though the world itself was waiting for something to happen.


    Her hand drifted to her satchel, fingers brushing against the smooth glass of a vial filled with shadow-infused liquid she’d crafted earlier that day. The substance inside swirled faintly, as though alive, its dark hues glinting with an eerie, intermittent light. Lately, even her alchemical reactions—normally precise and predictable—had begun to shift, the results behaving in ways she couldn’t entirely explain. It was as if the ingredients themselves were reacting to something unseen, something that pulsed beneath the surface of Eidolon like a heartbeat.


    Her grip tightened around the vial, the cool glass grounding her against the rising unease. The shadowy liquid inside seemed heavier than it should, its weight pressing against her thoughts. Was it the alchemy itself, or was it her? The idea sent a chill through her.


    The air around her felt charged, like the moments before a storm, and for the briefest second, she thought she saw a ripple in the grove—subtle, fleeting, but undeniably real. A whisper of movement that wasn’t there. Her breath caught, but the grove was still again, as if it had been waiting for her to notice.


    Something’s coming, she thought, the prickling sensation deepening in the back of her mind. She slipped the vial back into her satchel, her fingers brushing against the leather straps as she cast a wary glance around the grove. Whatever had been stirring in Eidolon wasn’t just in her mind anymore. It was in the world itself.


    And it was growing stronger.


    Petra crouched nearby, her daggers glinting as she inspected a Moonblossom plant. “You’re overthinking it,” she said with a smirk. “This game’s always been weird. That’s half the fun.”


    Luna didn’t answer. She straightened, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the trees seemed darker, their crystalline edges catching the faint glow of the sun. She knew Kyle had felt it too—he’d mentioned it in passing, though he hadn’t lingered on the topic. But there was something unspoken between them, an unacknowledged understanding that Eidolon was no longer behaving like a mere game.


    A soft tremor rippled through the ground beneath her feet, so faint it might have been imagined. Luna froze, her eyes narrowing. The others didn’t seem to notice, continuing their harvesting as though nothing had happened.


    But she felt it. The waiting. The watching.


    “Luna?” Lirien’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “You okay?”


    Luna nodded slowly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”


    As they moved deeper into the grove, the feeling lingered, growing stronger. Whatever was happening to Eidolon, Luna was certain of one thing: the world was changing, and they were running out of time to understand how—or why.


    <hr>


    Eliath (The Shadowblade)


    A month into Eidolon, Eliath had found himself on a path he hadn’t anticipated. It had started innocuously enough—an ordinary quest to eliminate a bandit leader lurking in the outskirts of a forested region. But as he pursued the target, the trail had led him to an abandoned ruin, its halls steeped in an oppressive darkness that seemed to breathe. That was where he had first encountered Aren, the Shadow Sentinel.


    “The Rift isn’t something to take lightly,” Aren had warned him, stepping out of the shadows like an apparition. His words had been heavy with foreboding, his presence radiating an authority that felt almost alive. “The fragments are pieces of a greater whole. Seek them, and you may glimpse the Rift itself.”


    Eliath’s sharp eyes had narrowed as he studied the shadowy NPC. “And why would I want to do that?”


    Aren’s response had been unsettling. “The Merge is inevitable. Those who see the fragments will choose whether it destroys… or remakes us.”


    The words had lingered in Eliath’s mind, even as he’d shrugged them off with a smirk. “Danger’s where the fun is,” he’d replied, his fingers brushing the hilt of his dagger. But deep down, the quest and its implications had unsettled him in a way he couldn’t shake.


    <hr>


    Now, as Eliath walked through the bustling streets of Iridiel, one of Eidolon’s sprawling cities, the memory of Aren’s words resurfaced, unbidden. The crowd swirled around him—players and NPCs alike—but his focus remained razor-sharp. Shadows clung to the alleys and corners of the towering spires, flickering unnaturally in the golden light of the city.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Then he saw him.


    At first, Eliath thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. A new player moved through the heart of the city, his figure shrouded in a spectral aura that seemed to blur the lines between his form and the shadows around him. Eliath froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat. The man’s presence was more felt than seen, an anomaly that demanded attention. The shadows bent unnaturally toward him, curling at the edges of his silhouette as though drawn by some unseen force.


    The newcomer’s movements were unsettlingly fluid, his steps deliberate yet eerily smooth. He wasn’t just walking—he was slipping through the world, a part of it and yet apart from it. Reflections in the nearby shop windows rippled subtly as he passed, distorting as though unable to capture his image correctly. Even the light around him seemed dimmer, as if reluctant to touch him.


    Eliath’s chest tightened with an inexplicable sense of recognition. The aura, the way the shadows moved—it was too familiar. It reminded him of the darkness he had faced in his quest, the same otherworldly pull that had radiated from Aren.


    “Interesting,” Eliath murmured, leaning casually against a nearby wall. He let his gaze linger, studying the newcomer with practiced precision. The man’s glowing eyes scanned the crowd, their faint, eerie light catching for just a moment on Eliath before moving on. At his side hung spectral blades, their edges flickering like unstable energy.


    Eliath’s smirk returned, though unease pricked at the back of his mind. “You’re not just any player, are you?” he muttered under his breath.


    The newcomer stopped briefly at a vendor’s stall, exchanging a few words before turning down a side street. Eliath didn’t hesitate. Slipping into the crowd, his steps silent and deliberate, he began to follow. The shadows around him deepened slightly, as if they, too, were curious.


    Whatever this player’s story was, Eliath couldn’t shake the feeling that it was tied to the same forces that had drawn him into the Rift’s mysteries. If the Merge was inevitable, then this man might be a part of it. And Eliath had learned one thing during his time in Eidolon: shadows always held secrets worth uncovering.


    <hr>


    On the Way to the Glass Forest


    The party moved in tight formation, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the dense forest floor. The journey from the guild hall had been uneventful, but the air grew heavier the closer they got to the Glass Forest. The terrain shifted subtly, the trees becoming taller and their bark smoother, almost polished. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the canopy, refracting into dazzling, unnatural patterns that danced across the ground.


    Kyle walked at the front, his eyes scanning their surroundings. Gareth followed closely behind, his shield strapped to his back, while Mason kept a wary eye on the rear. The twins, Kia and Mia, flanked the group with Styles darting ahead, his rogue instincts keeping him a step ahead of any potential ambush.


    “Anyone else feel like the forest is… watching us?” Mason muttered, his voice low but tense.


    “It’s the light,” Gareth grunted. “The way it bounces off everything—it’s unnatural.”


    “Not just the light,” Styles called back from ahead. “The reflections. They’re… off.”


    Kyle’s gaze flicked toward the crystalline trees that marked the outskirts of the Glass Forest. Their surfaces gleamed like mirrors, reflecting the party’s movements with a strange clarity. But when Kyle looked closer, the reflections didn’t quite match. The angles were wrong, and the movements seemed just a beat behind—or ahead—of reality.


    “We’re getting close,” Kyle said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Stay sharp.”


    The group stepped deeper into the forest, and the world around them seemed to shift. The ground shimmered beneath their boots, fracturing like glass under pressure, yet holding firm. The trees sparkled with a cold brilliance, their crystalline branches reaching skyward in impossible, spiraling patterns.


    “It’s beautiful,” Kia said, her voice tinged with awe.


    “Beautiful,” Mia added, her tone mirroring her twin’s, “but dangerous.”


    Kyle stopped abruptly, raising a hand to halt the group. “Do you hear that?”


    They all stilled, straining their ears. At first, there was nothing but the faint rustle of leaves and the distant call of some unknown bird. Then, faintly, came the sound: a low hum, rhythmic and pulsing, like a heartbeat resonating through the forest.


    “What the hell is that?” Mason asked, his hand tightening around his staff.


    “It’s coming from up ahead,” Styles said, his voice quieter now, as if he were reluctant to disturb the oppressive stillness.


    Kyle stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. The hum grew louder, vibrating in his chest as they approached a clearing. In the center of the open space stood a massive crystalline structure, its surface pulsing faintly with light. It jutted from the ground like a jagged shard of ice, its edges impossibly sharp. Reflections rippled across its surface, showing not just the forest around them, but something else—shadows moving within, indistinct yet purposeful.


    “The Rift Unseen,” Kyle said, his voice barely above a whisper.


    “Are we sure we want to do this?” Gareth asked, his voice low but firm. “Kaelith didn’t exactly make it sound like a stroll in the park.”


    Kyle hesitated, Kaelith’s warning surfacing in his mind: Beware the cost of your curiosity. The words gnawed at him, but he couldn’t turn back. “If this is part of the Rift, we need to understand it,” he said finally. “If we don’t, someone else will.”


    “Famous last words,” Styles muttered, but he moved into position, his daggers drawn and ready.


    The group stepped into the clearing, and the hum reached its crescendo. The crystalline structure shimmered, and the reflections on its surface began to change. No longer did it show the forest around them—instead, it showed them, their own images twisting and distorting as though through a warped mirror. Then the shadows within the structure surged outward, spilling into the clearing like liquid night.


    “Positions!” Kyle barked, drawing his weapon as the shadows began to take


    shape, solidifying into grotesque, humanoid forms with jagged, crystalline limbs. Their eyes glowed faintly, the same pulsing rhythm as the massive structure behind them.


    The clearing erupted into chaos.


    “Kia! Mia! Flank them!” Kyle shouted, his voice cutting through the rising hum.


    The twins moved as one, their blades glinting as they darted to the edges of the clearing. Their strikes were precise, targeting the shadow constructs’ limbs, but the creatures were fast—too fast. One lunged at Kia, its claw-like appendage slicing through the air. She barely ducked in time, her blade carving into its side as it recoiled.


    “Gareth, hold the line!” Kyle called out.


    The tank slammed his shield into the ground, the impact radiating a shockwave that slowed the creatures’ advance. One of the shadow constructs lunged at him, its crystalline arm shattering against his shield as he countered with a crushing blow from his mace.


    “Styles, find the source of that hum!” Kyle barked.


    Styles darted through the melee, his movements a blur as he weaved between the shadow constructs. His eyes locked on the massive crystalline structure, its surface now rippling like disturbed water. He reached its base and hesitated, the reflections on its surface shifting unnervingly. For a moment, he saw himself—but not as he was. The reflection showed him older, worn, his face lined with exhaustion and his daggers dripping with black ichor.


    “Focus, Styles!” Mason shouted, his staff glowing as he unleashed a barrage of spells to keep the creatures at bay.


    Styles shook his head, snapping out of his daze. He pressed his hand against the structure, and the hum faltered, the vibrations rippling through the ground. “It’s reacting!” he called out.


    Kyle pivoted toward the structure, his clones from the Mirrored Revenant ability flanking him and striking down a construct that had lunged at him. “Mason, give me an opening!”


    Mason raised his staff, a circle of glowing runes forming beneath him. “On it!” he yelled, releasing a shockwave of energy that blasted the creatures back momentarily.


    Kyle sprinted toward the structure, dodging the shadows that surged to intercept him. He reached the base and slammed his blade into the crystal. The hum crescendoed into a deafening roar, and the shadows froze, their forms trembling before collapsing into puddles of inky blackness.


    For a moment, the clearing fell silent. The crystalline structure dimmed, its light fading to a faint glow.


    “What the hell was that?” Gareth muttered, lowering his shield.


    Kyle’s breathing was heavy as he leaned on his blade, his eyes fixed on the now-still structure. “The Rift,” he said, his voice grim. “Or at least, part of it.”


    Mason approached, his staff still glowing faintly. “This was just the start. Whatever’s inside that thing—it’s waiting.”


    Kyle nodded, his unease deepening. He glanced back at the structure one last time, the faint hum now barely audible but still there, like a heartbeat lingering just beneath the surface. Kaelith’s warning echoed in his mind: Beware the cost of your curiosity.


    “We’re moving in,” Kyle said finally, his tone resolute. “The Rift isn’t going to explain itself.”


    The group exchanged uneasy glances but fell into formation. As they stepped toward the structure, its surface rippled again, the reflections within showing glimpses of distant, shifting landscapes—and a shadowed figure watching them from the depths.