The Rift

I'd been in wonder on the drive back home to the vineyard. Crowe had been silent ever since we left the academy, and It was... unsettling, to say the least. His silence was a rare occurrence, heard by very few. I'd often joked, claiming it would take the end of the world to shut his trap, but here we were. In silence, racing through the streets of M—

"Where are we?" I suddenly inquired, snapping out of my stupor and out to the many skyscrapers, glistening sleeks of silver, blue, and more. The streets were littered with an Influx of cars, nearing the end of lunch hour, holding up traffic as many honked and screamed from their windows. A common sight in Manhattan. Very common, but something in my gut bubbled with anxiety.

A feeling I couldn't place my finger on.

"I thought we were heading to the vineyard," I said, turning my attention to Crowe's striking features, tarnished by a frown.

His finger pressed onto the intercom near the center panel. " Robin, where are you taking us?"

Silence replied.

"Robin," He called again, his tone bordering grim. He turned to me, and I, him, but before we could do anything, the privacy window at the forefront of the limo lowered, revealing father's mischievous grin.

"Got you!" He jeered, flicking his ashen hair back with style.

My jaw clenched, but as I opened my lips, struggling to find the words, the silver head of my mother popped out from the side, revealing her jade-like amethyst eyes, far in contrast to the blood-red of Father's.

"My baby," cried Mother reaching her arms out with teary eyes and a pouty lip. "Come to me. Come to Lilith."

"I'm jumping out of the car," I snapped, reaching for the door, only to curse father's hateful name as they were deadlocked. His demonic laughter chuckled in my ear,

"Sweetie, I, no, we have a gift for you." He said, placing the limo in Park in the middle of traffic. "You two, Crowe. My little bro couldn't be here, as he thought it was idiotic to mess with you before certain events occur." He added, sliding along the narrow box through the Private window into my hands. I felt the leather casing cool to the touch, and my gaze lifted questingly to Father.

"My boy! Crowe, I have a personal present for you. Although, it's not for a woman's ear," Father teased, inciting a spark of irritation. "But as my Uncle Eroma once did for me, I shall pass on our legacy to you. You hold my brother's grace but my desire. It is quite the combo. You will learn the mantra of Booty to become the Booty War—"

Mother covered father's mouth and sighed, " Truly, Sene, I worry about you."

Mother placed me once more in her sight, and that bubbling sensation tugged at my lower stomach, coiling in a way that made me sick. She smiled at me. Her gaze was still soft and warm, "by the Gods, you are beautiful." she reminded me, "Come to me, darling."

"Mom, what is going on," I whispered, noticing even father's expression tightened. I slipped over the seat near the window, and both Mother and Father took me into their arms, even beckoning to Crowe, who followed right after me.

My heart pained, and my mind was stirred with uncertainty. Mother and Father were the two most fearless people I had ever seen, leaping out of helicopters without parachutes to help me overcome my fears and battling a ravenous tiger who had been starved and prodded with bare hands. They had done it all, most of the time drunk, but now…Now I saw fear. I saw hesitation and hope—all stirring over their faces.

"Till you return," Mother whispered gently.

While father finished, " We will await you in the Family Vinyard."

"Uncle," Crowe uttered, his tone cracking with a foreboding cry, " What—"

My eyes widened, and before he could finish, or I could think, a tearing flash of a bolt of lightning streaked over the skies.

"Get Down!" Crowe howled, pressing my head beneath his lean figure as an explosion of shards shattered with the crackles of raging thunder that followed thereafter.

Listening to the downpour of rain, shattering like crystalline glass, a trickle of warm liquid skimmed over my cheeks and onto my uniform.

"Crowe?" I stammered the very word, peering up once the downpour faded to silence and the thunderous cries of anarchy began.

I pushed him up, and everything froze.

Blood.

The blood had returned!

Tears blinded my eyes as I called his name, screaming it as he remained still. His uniform was torn, with various nicks and gashes, shredding away the flesh around his back and near his head.

"Papa!" I cried, unable to recall the last time I addressed him as Papa instead of the formal Father. I turned, but to my shock, bordering horror. They were gone: The doors had not opened, nor had they closed, that I was sure off. I would have heard it. There would even be bloodstains or a body, but they were gone! Gone!

I reached for a pulse near Crowe's wrist and felt the thumping of his powerful heartbeat racing from his veins up into my arm, sending shivers of relief down my spine.

"Thank the Gods," I whispered, despite my aversion to the concept of god, collective consciousness, or whatnot. It was all the same. And right now, he was fine.

I reached for the door, ignoring shards of glass cutting through my uniform, and removed Crowe as carefully as possible. I wasn't sure what had happened, but he needed help. Anything really to stop the bleeding. Yet as I stood with my arms wrapped around Crowe's underarms, leveling his body to place it upon my back. I peered up.

Past the shattered windows of manhattan's skyscrapers, falling to ruin, at that monstrous clap of thunder, bellowing with untold rage, to the skies carved into a mass of congealing essence. The sun was gone, the Azure blue torn away, leaving a smoldering oasis of darkness unfolding into itself.

"Bloody Hell!" I swore, feeling my feet never before so weak, so frail. "What the hell is going on."

"The mother fucking rapture!" Crowe weakly teased, lifting his head covered in a slew of blood. Easing my fears, if only by a little, he was awake.

My eyes rolled but fell short as my gaze turned to—

"There-There floating," I stammered out, shaken by the hundreds of new yorkers rising into the air. Some stood free of injuries, while others were missing a few appendages, balling their eyes out at the anguish and panic. It was mayhem. Complete and utter devastation. Alarms were bellowing all around the city, but I saw no movement, only sounds and the billowing ashes of death stinging my eyes.

"Get the case," Crowe snapped, pulling his weight off of me, and leaned against the passenger door. "Seems like everything is going to hell."

Reaching in, I held onto the case father had gifted me, only to notice Crowe, too, had entered mother's side of the limo, grabbing a small parchment. Before I could question him, a pull suddenly tugged at my body, refusing to let go.

"Oh no," I cried, spinning to face Crowe, who reached out his bloodstained hands. His expression was of pain and fear. But under the strange pull at my body, somehow reaching my mind, darkness pooled, sucking me into sweet oblivion.

—

[Startup initiated]

[Scan Commencing]

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[Error]

[90%]

[Error]

[Error]

[Error 404]

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[Scan Complete]

Name: Izalith Snow (Sealed)

Cultivation: N/A

Age: 15

Abyssal Qi: N/A

Ether: 0/450

Race: Abyssal Shadowfell

Bloodline Grade: ???

Title: N/A

Str: 10

Dex: 10

Con:10

Int: 16

[Arcane: 20]

Passive: [???] Lvl 1

Skills: N/A

[System Alert: Welcome to the Badlands]