Samuel's POV
I turned to Owen, brushing so ash off my shoulder, and asked, "Alright... can your beast instincts track him?"
He didn't answer right away.
Owen stared out past the horizon where the remnants of Ezra's voidfire still danced like dying embers in the wind. His eyes shimred gold for a second — the faint glow of the beast inside.
Then he closed his eyes.
Everything fell quiet.
Even the wind stopped.
A mont later, his nostrils flared. His shoulders stiffened.
Then he opened his eyes and spoke, voice low, sharp, and edged with unease.
"I can sll where he's been," Owen said. "But not where he's going."
He looked at with a frown that twisted into sothing darker. "It's like... his trail folds in on itself. No scent. No echo. No heartbeat in the Void. But—"
"But what?" I pressed.
"But he left sothing behind." Owen stepped forward and crouched near the blackened soil, placing his hand on it. "Emotion. Rage. Desperation. It's... raw."
Henry folded his arms. "So he's not just planning this. He's feeling it."
Roselle chid in from behind, "Emotions are anchors for beings like Ezra. They echo louder than footprints."
I looked at Owen. "Can you follow that?"
Owen nodded slowly. "Not directly. But if he's leaking that much anger... I can trace where it spreads. Like scenting where a wildfire will go."
I grinned. "Good. Then get ready, wolf."
He stood up, eyes glowing again. "You better keep up, monster."
Henry sighed. "Here we go again."
I rolled my shoulders, tightening the straps of my blade.
Ezra may have vanished — but now we had a lead.
And I swear...
When I find him again, I'll carve that smugness right out of his skull.
________________________________________
Samuel's POV
The wind howled like a wounded beast as we moved deeper into the Riftlands — a shattered region where the ground cracked like broken glass and the sky bled purple veins of cursed starlight.
Owen walked ahead, crouched low to the ground, his eyes glowing with an unnatural hue — the beast fully alert. Every few steps he would pause, sniff the air, or press his palm to the soil as if listening to sothing beneath it.
Henry walked beside , spinning a dagger in his hand lazily. "You sure about this trail? Feels like we're walking into a damn trap."
Owen didn't even turn around. "We are."
I raised a brow. "And you're still following it?"
Owen straightened and turned to face us. "He wants us to. That's the point. He's not hiding — not really. He's challenging us."
"Good," I muttered. "I love when they make it easy."
Roselle walked silently behind us, her cloak of shadows sweeping over the jagged terrain without sound. "Don't mistake confidence for control. Ezra's kind thrives on illusions. If he's letting us track him, then he's already ten steps ahead."
"Oh, I know," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "That's why I'm only pretending to fall for it."
Henry chuckled. "He's not bluffing. The idiot actually believes his own bullshit."
"Damn right I do."
We crested a ridge, and Owen stopped so suddenly that Henry nearly walked into him.
"There," Owen said, pointing to a swirling rupture in the air.
It looked like a tear in space itself — fraying at the edges, humming with unstable energy. The scent of voidfire and rage pulsed from it in waves.
"Ezra passed through there," Owen growled. "Recently. His anger is like venom in the air."
Roselle stepped beside , her eyes narrowing. "That rift leads into the Hollow Verge. Beyond that? The Null Spine."
Henry's mouth twisted. "That's a death zone."
"Good thing we're already half-dead," I muttered and stepped toward the rift.
But Roselle's hand shot out and gripped my arm.
"Wait," she said, her voice lower, almost... hesitant. "The Null Spine warps mory. Even your soul can fray if you go too far in without tethering yourself."
I looked down at her hand on my arm, then up into her crimson eyes.
"I've walked through worse," I said quietly. "Besides... I've got enough rage to anchor just fine."
Her grip tightened for a second, then released.
"Don't get lost in it," she said. "Because if you do, Ezra won't need to kill you. The place will do it for him."
I nodded once. "Noted."
Owen stepped forward and slashed a mark on the ground — a sigil of the Beastkin — and whispered sothing under his breath. A faint aura shimred around us all.
"A trail marker," he explained. "If we lose our minds in there, it might call us back."
Henry gave him a look. "You're such an optimist."
Then, without another word, I stepped through the rift.
The world twisted.
Everything twisted.
For a heartbeat, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. I saw flashes — screams, fire, Roselle's face contorted in pleasure and pain, Owen's claws soaked in blood, Henry kneeling in a field of ash, Nocturne whispering sothing I couldn't understand — and then it all snapped into place.
We were inside.
The Null Spine.
A vast canyon of grey stone and shadow — hollow echoes of forgotten realms whispering around us. The air shimred like heat, but it was cold — so cold it burned.
"This place is wrong," Henry muttered. "Like the world's rembering itself wrong."
"Keep moving," Owen said. "Ezra passed through here."
We followed the scent — not with noses or instincts — but with emotion. The trail of hate was thick, like tar. And every step closer to the center made it heavier.
Finally, we ca to a cavern rimd with broken runes and thorned crystals.
There, on the far side, stood Ezra.
He turned as if he knew we'd arrive at that exact mont. His eyes burned like black suns.
"Took you long enough," he said, voice echoing with a thousand dissonant whispers.
I took a step forward, fingers twitching toward the sword on my back. "We're done chasing shadows, Ezra."
"Oh, Samuel," he said, spreading his arms. "But I am the shadow."
And just like that, the walls collapsed into a vortex of teeth and screaming stone.
The confrontation had begun — but this wasn't just a fight.
This was war.
And I was ready.
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