The gate between realms closed behind Shim like a door of light sealing shut.

  Gone was the crystalline surface of the Ethereal Bridge, replaced by rough-hewn stone beneath his feet. The Prana here felt different—wild, untamed, pulsing with unfamiliar rhythms. Above him, stars dotted the night sky in patterns he had never seen from the Bridge, where the planes themselves had been his stars.

  He stood on the outskirts of a vast city.

  In the moonlight, limestone walls rose like pale giants, their surfaces carved with symbols that tugged at something in his memory. Great pyramids pierced the sky beyond the walls, their peaks seeming to touch the stars themselves. Torchlight flickered along the battlements, and even at this hour, he could hear the distant sounds of life—wheel on stone, voices carrying on the wind, the occasional blast of bronze horns.

  The First Pool crystal Aria had given him pulsed once against his chest, then fell silent. Shim touched it gently, remembering her silver-blue features in the last moment before he stepped through the gate. Here, in this alien realm, that memory felt like a dream.

  Movement caught his eye—a patrol of guards approaching along the wall. Their spears gleamed in the torchlight, bronze helmets reflecting the moon. Shim quickly pulled the rough-woven cloak he'd been given in Prithvi-Dwar closer around his shoulders. Vakra's training echoed in his mind: "To hide in plain sight, match your movement to the flow around you."

  But the flow here was chaotic, unlike anything he'd known.

  The Prana didn't sing through crystalline paths or dance in controlled pools. It surged through the earth itself, raw and primal, making his own power feel like a tamed river suddenly meeting the sea.

  The patrol passed without noticing him, their sandaled feet raising small clouds of dust. As their torchlight faded, a different sound caught Shim's attention—running feet, ragged breathing, and underneath it all, a familiar crackling that made his skin prickle. Corrupted Prana.

  He turned toward the sound, seeing a figure dart between the shadows of abandoned market stalls. It was a girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, her dark hair streaming behind her as she ran. She clutched something to her chest—scrolls, from the glimpse Shim caught. And behind her...

  The shadows themselves seemed to twist and reach, taking forms that made his eyes hurt. Three figures emerged from the darkness, moving with unnatural speed. Their hands trailed tendrils of power that Shim recognized yet didn't—Prana, but wrong somehow, tainted with energies that shouldn't exist in this realm.

  The girl was fast, but her pursuers were gaining. As she passed near his position, Shim saw her face in the moonlight—young, fierce, determined. But there was also fear in her eyes, the kind that comes from knowing exactly what chases you.

  Time seemed to slow as Shim weighed his options. Vakra had warned him about drawing attention. Aria had cautioned him about revealing his powers. Every lesson he'd learned said to stay hidden, to observe, to learn.

  But then the girl stumbled, and in that moment, her eyes met his. There was something in that look—not just fear or desperation, but a spark of defiance against powers that threatened to overwhelm her. It reminded him of the determination he'd seen in Aria's eyes when they'd discovered Darvin's corruption.

  The Prana beneath his skin surged in response to his decision. As the shadow-wielders closed in on their prey, Shim stepped out of his hiding place, knowing that his first moments in this ancient realm were about to become far more complicated than he'd planned.

  The first shadow-wielder didn't see Shim until he was already moving. Years of training with Vakra had taught him that sometimes the simplest solutions were best—so his first attack wasn't with Prana at all, but with his shoulder, driven hard into the pursuer's midsection. The impact sent them both rolling across the dusty ground, away from the girl's path.

  "Run!" Shim shouted to her in the common tongue of the Bridge, then immediately cursed his mistake.

  But to his surprise, the girl hesitated, then called back in the local language—words he didn't understand, but her gesture toward a narrow alley between two buildings was clear enough.

  The shadow-wielder beneath him roared, darkness coalescing around his hands. Up close, Shim could see the man's eyes—normal enough, except for the flickering void that seemed to dance behind them. The corrupted Prana he wielded felt wrong, like a discordant note in the natural flow of energy.

  "Breach-walker!" the man snarled in heavily accented Bridge-tongue.

  "The signs spoke true!"

  Before Shim could process the implications of those words, darkness erupted around them. It wasn't mere absence of light—this shadow had weight, substance, a hungry sentience that spoke of powers from the darker planes. It coiled around Shim like cold smoke, trying to find purchase.

  But Shim had spent nineteen years learning to feel the flow of Prana, and even corrupted, he could sense its patterns. As the shadows tried to constrict, he moved with their rhythm instead of against it, slipping free just as Vakra had taught him to escape holds during training. The shadow-wielder's surprise gave him the moment he needed to spring to his feet.

  The other two pursuers had split up—one following the girl, one circling back toward Shim. This one wielded a different power altogether. The air around her hands shimmered with heat, and when she thrust her palm forward, a twist of corrupted flame shot forth. Not the pure energy of the Sanctum of Sacred Fire, but something darker, hungrier.

  Shim dove aside as the flame scorched the wall behind him. The stone didn't burn so much as decay, age accelerated by the corrupted power. He needed to end this quickly, but without revealing too much of his own abilities.

  The girl had almost reached the alley when the third pursuer cut her off. This one moved like liquid darkness, shadows flowing around him like a living cloak. The scrolls the girl clutched went flying as she backed away, her defiant expression cracking with fear.

  Something in Shim shifted. The Prana within him responded not to thought but to instinct. He couldn't use his full power, couldn't risk exposing himself completely, but perhaps...

  He reached out to the wild, untamed Prana of this realm, not trying to control it as he would on the Bridge, but moving with it, becoming part of its chaotic dance. Light bloomed from his hands, not the pure golden radiance he was capable of, but a close approximation of the torchlight around them. He sent it forth in a wave, not to attack but to illuminate.

  The effect on the shadow-wielders was immediate. Their corrupted powers faltered in the sudden brightness, shadows dissipating like mist in morning sun. The one closest to the girl staggered, his concentration broken, giving her the chance to dive past him.

  "This way!" she called in Bridge-tongue that was accented but clear. She had recovered the scrolls and stood at the alley entrance, waiting.

  Shim didn't hesitate. As the shadow-wielders recovered, he sprinted toward her. Behind him, he heard their shouts turning to commands, the crackle of corrupted power building again. The girl grabbed his arm as he reached her, pulling him into the narrow passage.

  "They'll never catch us in here," she said, her grip firm as she led him through the darkness.

  "I know every turn."

  As they ran, Shim realized she was right. The alley twisted and branched like a maze, each turn seeming random but somehow purposeful. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit grew fainter, the corrupted Prana signatures weakening with distance.

  The maze of alleys felt endless, each turn revealing new passages that stretched into darkness. Maya—though Shim didn't yet know her name—moved with absolute certainty, her bare feet silent on the stone. The scrolls she carried rustled with each movement, their edges glowing faintly in what little moonlight reached them.

  "They're called the Kharok," she said between breaths, not slowing her pace.

  "Shadow-walkers. They've been growing bolder since the new moon." Her Bridge-tongue was rough but functional.

  "You're not from here. Your clothes, your accent... you're from beyond."

  It wasn't a question. Shim measured his response carefully.

  "You speak the tongue of distant places." Shim Said

  A quick smile flashed in the darkness.

  "My father taught me. He says knowledge is the best defense against the darkness." She pulled them to a stop, pressing against a wall as footsteps echoed from a connecting alley. When they passed, she continued in a whisper

  "But he never mentioned anyone who could push back the shadows with light itself."

  The passage opened into a small courtyard, hidden between towering buildings. A dry fountain stood at its center, its carved surface depicting scenes Shim didn't recognize. Maya finally released his arm, turning to face him fully in the starlight.

  She was younger than he'd first thought, perhaps fifteen, with eyes that held both wisdom and curiosity. Her simple dress marked her as neither rich nor poor, but the calluses on her hands spoke of someone who worked with scrolls and texts regularly. The package she clutched proved to be a collection of bound papyrus, their edges marked with symbols that made his Prana stir uneasily.

  "They wanted these," she said, following his gaze to the scrolls.

  "They've been taking them from all over the city. Anything with the old markings, anything that speaks of the realms beyond. My father—" She stopped, security replacing openness.

  "Why did you help me?"

  "You needed it," Shim said simply. It was true, if not complete.

  She studied him for a long moment. In the distance, horns blew—different from the ones he'd heard earlier. Maya's expression tightened.

  "Dawn patrol. They'll be searching the main streets soon." She hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision.

  "I know somewhere safe. But I need to know I can trust you."

  "The Kharok called me Breach-walker," Shim said carefully. "What does that mean to you?"

  "It means," her voice dropped lower,

  "that you're exactly who my father has been waiting for." She held out her free hand.

  "I'm Maya. And if you want to know why those scrolls make your power stir—yes, I saw that—then come with me. The day brings more eyes than the night, and not all shadows need darkness to hunt."

  The Prana beneath Shim's skin hummed in response to something—her words, the scrolls, or perhaps the ancient stones around them. This wasn't what he'd expected from his first hours on Earth, but Vakra had taught him that sometimes the path reveals itself in unexpected ways.

  He took her offered hand. "I'm Shim."

  Maya's smile returned, quick and bright. "Well, Shim the Breach-walker, welcome to Akhetai, City of a Thousand Secrets. Try to keep up."

  She led him to what appeared to be a solid wall, pressed her hand against a specific stone, and suddenly they were descending into darkness, the city's secrets waiting to be unveiled.

  The passage plunged deep beneath Akhetai's streets. Maya produced a small copper lamp from a hidden niche, its flame casting dancing shadows on walls lined with hieroglyphs. Unlike the decorative carvings above, these symbols seemed older, their patterns making the First Pool crystal at Shim's chest pulse with recognition.

  "The old ways," Maya explained, noticing his attention. "Before the temples, before the priests and their new gods. When the barriers were thinner, or so my father says." She traced one symbol with her free hand—a curve that looked unsettlingly like the edge of the Ethereal Bridge. "Most can't read them anymore. Those who can... disappear."

  The air grew cooler as they descended, carrying scents of age and secrets. Shim felt the wild Prana of Earth flowing differently here, as if the very stones remembered something the world above had forgotten. Their footsteps echoed strangely, sometimes seeming to come from behind them or far ahead.

  "The Kharok aren't the only ones," Maya continued, her voice low despite their solitude. "There are others. Some wield fire that ages everything it touches. Some can twist water into shapes that shouldn't exist. A merchant in the eastern quarter swears he saw a man step through a mirror and emerge changed." She glanced back at him. "But you know about these things, don't you? The powers they've stolen?"

  "Corrupted," Shim corrected without thinking. "The powers are corrupted versions of—" He caught himself, but Maya's eyes had already lit with confirmation of something she'd suspected.

  "So there are pure versions," she said. "Father will want to—" She stopped abruptly, both speaking and walking. Ahead, a faint sound echoed up the passage—stone grinding on stone.

  Maya extinguished the lamp instantly. In the darkness, Shim felt her press against the wall, pulling him with her. Her whisper was barely audible: "There are others who use these passages. Not all of them are friends."

  The sound grew closer. In the absolute darkness, Shim's other senses heightened. The Prana flows shifted subtly, disturbed by something ahead. He could feel Maya's tension, hear her carefully controlled breathing. The First Pool crystal grew warmer against his skin, responding to... something.

  A strange light appeared around the passage's bend—not the warm glow of flame, but a sickly green luminescence that made the ancient symbols on the walls writhe. With it came a sensation that set Shim's teeth on edge. This wasn't the corrupted Prana of the Kharok. This was something else, something that felt like it had crawled out of the Abyss itself.

  Maya's hand found his in the darkness, squeezing once. He understood—they needed to move. But before they could...

  "Well," a voice rasped from the direction of the light, "what have we here? A daughter of the Keeper of Records, and..." There was a pause, and when the voice spoke again, it held a hunger that made the corrupted shadows above seem tame in comparison. "Oh. Oh, how interesting. One who walks between. The Master will be very pleased."

  The green light intensified, revealing its bearer. Shim felt Maya's sharp intake of breath, and his own Prana surged in response to what stood before them. This confrontation, he realized, would be very different from the one above.

  In the sickly green light, their adversary seemed to shift between forms. Sometimes it appeared as a tall figure in robes of deepest green, other times the robes seemed to be part of its flesh, which moved like oil on water. Its face, when Shim could focus on it, was a nightmare of angles that shouldn't exist.

  "The Kharok are children playing with shadows," it said, its voice resonating oddly in the confined space. "But we... we remember the old ways. The true ways." It raised a hand that wasn't quite a hand, green light coalescing around it. "The Master will want you alive, bridge-walker, but how alive is negotiable."

  Shim felt Maya trembling beside him, but her voice was steady when she spoke. "You're one of the Abyss-touched. The scrolls speak of you. You're not supposed to be able to exist in our realm."

  The creature's laugh felt like needles in Shim's mind. "Smart little scholar. Your father's teachings serve you well. But the barriers grow weak, girl. The old laws fade. Soon—"

  Shim didn't let it finish. The moment it mentioned barriers, he understood the true danger. This wasn't just corrupted power like the Kharok used. This was a being that had clawed its way through weakened barriers between planes, bringing true Abyssal power with it.

  He shoved Maya behind him and released his hold on his power. Golden light erupted from his hands, pure Prana singing through his veins. The creature shrieked—a sound that echoed not just in the passage but in their minds. Its form rippled, green light clashing with gold.

  "Maya," Shim called over the otherworldly screech, "run!"

  "Not without you!" Her hand gripped his cloak.

  The creature recovered quickly, its form solidifying. "Ah," it hissed, "not just a bridge-walker. Something more. Something... new." Green fire erupted from its body, crawling along the walls like living vines. Where it touched the ancient symbols, they blackened and seemed to scream.

  Shim felt the Prana here responding to his power, but differently than in Madhya or even above ground. The ancient symbols weren't just decorative—they were channels, paths for power carved by those who had come before. He reached for them instinctively, letting his power flow through patterns older than Akhetai itself.

  The walls blazed with sudden light, symbols igniting in sequence down the passage. The creature howled as pure energy coursed through the very stone around it. Its form began to unravel at the edges.

  "This isn't possible," it snarled. "You can't—the barriers—"

  "I am the barrier," Shim found himself saying, though the words didn't feel like his own. The First Pool crystal blazed against his chest, its power joining with his.

  The creature made one last lunge, its form stretching grotesquely. But the symbols Shim had awakened formed a pattern it couldn't cross. With a sound like reality tearing, it collapsed in on itself, the green light imploding into nothing.

  Silence fell. The symbols slowly faded back to normal, though they seemed somehow clearer than before. Maya's grip on his cloak hadn't loosened.

  "That," she said after a moment, "was not the kind of power they stole." She moved to stand beside him, examining him with new eyes. "What are you, really?"

  "I'm still figuring that out," Shim answered honestly. His power settled beneath his skin, but the ancient symbols still resonated with it. "Your father... you said he's been waiting for someone like me. Why?"

  Maya picked up her lamp, relit it, and retrieved the scrolls she'd dropped. "Because something's happening to the barriers between realms. The Kharok, the Abyss-touched, they're just the beginning." She gestured to the passages ahead. "Come on. Father needs to know about this. And you... you need to see what he's discovered."

  As they continued deeper beneath Akhetai, Shim felt the weight of Maya's words. The creature's appearance confirmed his worst fears—the barriers were weakening, and not just on the Bridge. Whatever was coming, it would affect all planes.

  The passage ahead curved downward, leading them toward answers... and very likely, more questions.

  The passage finally opened into a vast circular chamber that took Shim's breath away. Unlike the rough-hewn tunnels above, this space had been crafted with extraordinary precision. Twelve massive pillars ringed the room, each carved with symbols that spiraled from floor to ceiling. Between them, alcoves held hundreds of scrolls and artifacts that seemed to hum with residual power.

  But what drew Shim's attention was the floor. A massive mosaic spread across it, depicting twelve distinct realms arranged in a pattern he recognized instantly—the same arrangement he'd seen countless times from the Ethereal Bridge.

  "The Map of Realms," Maya said softly. "Father says it's older than Akhetai itself. The ancient ones built the city above it, though they didn't know why." She stepped carefully around the edge, heading toward a cluttered workspace near one of the pillars. "Father? Father, you need to see—"

  "Who our guest is? Indeed." A man emerged from behind a pillar, and Shim immediately understood where Maya got her intensity. The Keeper of Records was tall and lean, with keen eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. His simple robe was stained with ink, and his fingers bore the calluses of someone who spent their life working with scrolls and books.

  "You have his look about you," the Keeper said, studying Shim. "Vakra's, I mean. Though you probably have questions about how I know that name."

  Shim felt his Prana surge in surprise. "You know Vakra?"

  "Know him? He saved my life, twenty years ago." The Keeper moved to one of the alcoves, retrieving a scroll with practiced ease. "Though he appeared different then. More... substantial. Less like he was partly somewhere else."

  Maya looked between them. "Father, we encountered an Abyss-touched in the passages. Shim... he used power like nothing I've seen. The symbols responded to him."

  "Of course they did." The Keeper unrolled the scroll, revealing drawings that made Shim's heart skip. They showed the Bridge, crude but recognizable, and figures that could only be the Trinity. "The symbols were created by those who understood the true nature of reality. Who knew that what we call realms are really—"

  A deep rumble interrupted him, shaking dust from the ancient ceiling. The Keeper's expression darkened.

  "They're earlier than expected," he muttered, quickly securing the scroll. "Maya, the eastern caches, quickly. Shim..." He fixed the young man with an intense gaze. "What I'm about to show you will change everything you understand about yourself, but we have precious little time. They're coming, and what they seek is right beneath their feet."

  The Keeper moved with practiced urgency, gathering specific scrolls while Maya disappeared into one of the alcoves. The rumbling continued, small stones dislodging from the ceiling.

  "The Map isn't just a depiction," the Keeper explained, gesturing to the mosaic floor. "It's a focus point, a place where the barriers between realms are naturally thinner. The ancients built here because they could sense the power, though they didn't fully understand it." He knelt beside a section showing the Ethereal Bridge, fingers tracing patterns that made the stones shimmer faintly. "For millennia, it lay dormant. But three cycles of the moon ago, it began to activate."

  Shim felt his pendant and the First Pool crystal both responding to the map's subtle energy. "Three cycles... that's when the breaches on the Bridge started."

  "Precisely." The Keeper unrolled a scroll covered in calculations and astronomical charts. "Something is happening across all realms, something that hasn't occurred in thousands of years. The barriers weaken, allowing those with knowledge or power to cross where they shouldn't. The Kharok were the first—humans given shadows from the Realm of Shadows. Then came those wielding corrupted fire from the Sanctum. Now the Abyss-touched arrive."

  Another tremor, stronger than before. Dust rained down.

  "Father!" Maya called, returning with a wooden chest. "The eastern cache is packed. But the instruments are showing activity directly above us."

  The Keeper nodded grimly. "They've found it." He turned to Shim, his expression grave. "Do you know what you are? Did Vakra tell you?"

  "I know I was born from conflict between greater powers," Shim answered carefully.

  "You are more than that." The Keeper opened another scroll, this one showing a scene that made Shim's blood run cold. It depicted the Creator God and Destroyer God in conflict, but with detail he'd never seen before—the strand of hair, the drop of blood, and between them, a third figure preserving something. "You are the seed of balance itself. When a cycle of existence becomes imbalanced, when destruction or creation gains too much power, a counterweight emerges."

  He pointed to specific symbols around the image. "This text speaks of 'the one born of opposites, who walks between all realms.' The ancients called this being 'Samayara'—the Balance Incarnate."

  Shim felt the Prana within him surge in response to the name, as if it recognized something he did not. "And the corrupted deity? The one who replaced the Creator?"

  "The Great Deceiver," the Keeper said, his voice dropping. "One who was never meant to create, given that power. The scrolls call him—"

  A deafening crack split the air. Parts of the ceiling began to collapse as a hole appeared directly above the center of the Map. Through it, green light poured down, followed by the sinister glow of corrupted shadows. Voices called out in triumph.

  "They've found us," Maya whispered, clutching the chest to her.

  The Keeper thrust several scrolls into Shim's hands. "These contain what you need to know. The prophecy, the nature of the barriers, and how to strengthen them." He pointed to a narrow passage partly hidden behind one of the pillars. "That leads to the river. You must take Maya and go. What we've learned cannot be lost."

  "What about you?" Shim asked, even as more of the ceiling began to crumble.

  The Keeper's smile was sad but determined. "I will give you time." From beneath his robes, he produced a small crystal that glowed with inner light—not unlike the First Pool crystal, but amber in color. "Vakra left this with me, for when the time came. I think he knew, somehow."

  "Father, no—" Maya started, but the Keeper silenced her with a quick embrace.

  "You've learned all I can teach you," he told her. "Now go with him. Find the other Keepers. Complete what we started."

  Above them, figures were beginning to descend through the opening—shadow-wielders, fire-corrupters, and something larger, its form obscured by green light.

  The Keeper stepped into the center of the Map, raising the amber crystal. "GO!" he shouted as power began to build around him.

  Shim grabbed Maya's arm, pulling her toward the escape passage as the chamber erupted in blinding light behind them. The last thing he saw before the passage closed was the Keeper standing defiant in the center of the Map, amber energy flowing out to meet the corrupted forces descending upon him.

  The narrow passage twisted sharply downward, rough stone scraping against their shoulders as they fled. Maya moved mechanically, shock evident in her rigid posture and distant eyes. Behind them, the sound of the chamber's destruction faded, replaced by the distant roar of water growing louder with each step.

  Shim clutched the scrolls with one hand, guiding Maya with the other. The Prana signatures above them were chaotic—corrupted powers clashing with the pure energy the Keeper had unleashed. He could feel the Map's power responding, the very foundations of Akhetai trembling with energies not meant for this realm.

  "He knew," Maya finally spoke, her voice hollow. "All these years, he knew this day would come. The hidden caches, the escape routes, the messages to the other Keepers..." Her fingers tightened around the wooden chest. "He prepared me, but I didn't understand for what."

  The passage opened abruptly onto a narrow ledge overlooking an underground river. Its black waters rushed past, carrying the lifeblood of Akhetai to the greater river beyond the city walls. Ancient boats were tethered to iron rings set in the stone—small craft designed for speed rather than comfort.

  As Shim helped Maya into one of the boats, a tremendous shudder ran through the stone around them. The ceiling cracked, dust and small rocks showering down. The river's flow accelerated, as if something massive had displaced water upstream.

  "We have to go now," Shim said, untying the boat with quick movements. "Whatever your father unleashed, it's affecting the city's foundations."

  They pushed off from the ledge just as larger chunks of ceiling began to fall. The current caught them immediately, pulling their small craft into the darkness. Maya sat motionless, clutching the chest, while Shim used a pole to keep them from smashing against the tunnel walls. The First Pool crystal glowed faintly, providing just enough light to navigate by.

  "The Keeper of Records," Maya said suddenly, as they rounded a bend in the underground river. "That was his title, not just his occupation. There are others—twelve in total, one for each realm depicted on the Map. Father was the Keeper of the Bridge." She looked up at Shim, tears finally breaking through her composure. "That's why he recognized what you are. He's been studying the Bridge his entire life."

  The tunnel widened, the ceiling rising until it disappeared from the crystal's light. The river's flow steadied, becoming swift but navigable. In the distance, moonlight reflected off the water—the exit to the open river beyond the city.

  "These other Keepers," Shim asked gently, "where are they?"

  "Scattered across the ancient world." Maya opened the chest, revealing a collection of sealed letters alongside instruments Shim didn't recognize. "Each guards knowledge of a different realm. Together, they maintain what they call 'The Complete Record'—the true history of all realms and how they interact." She withdrew a papyrus map. "This shows their locations. Father believed that together, they could help resist what's coming."

  As their boat emerged from the tunnel, the night sky opened above them. Behind them, parts of Akhetai were in chaos—fires burning in the temple district, figures moving on the walls, the distant sound of bronze horns signaling alarm. The great pyramid at the city's heart seemed to shimmer strangely, as if something powerful had been awakened within it.

  "We need to get as far downriver as possible before dawn," Maya said, wiping away tears and visibly gathering her strength. "There's a settlement three days' journey south where another Keeper lives—the Keeper of Shadows. She'll help us understand these." She gestured to the scrolls Shim still clutched.

  Shim carefully set the scrolls down and took up the steering oar. As they navigated into the main current, leaving the burning city behind, he finally had a moment to process what the Keeper had revealed. Samayara—the Balance Incarnate. Born of the conflict between greater powers to restore equilibrium. The name resonated within him, awakening memories he hadn't known he possessed.

  "Your father called me Samayara," he said quietly as the city lights dwindled behind them. "That name... it feels true, somehow."

  Maya studied him in the moonlight. "The ancient texts say Samayara would appear when the balance between realms was most threatened. When corruption spread across the barriers." She reached out hesitantly, then touched the First Pool crystal at his chest. "They also say Samayara would carry fragments of many realms, bridging the gaps between them."

  The crystal pulsed in response to her touch, and for a brief moment, Shim felt a connection to the Bridge—to Aria, to the Watchers' Gate, to all he had left behind. The sensation passed quickly, but it left him with renewed purpose.

  "Your father sacrificed himself to give us a chance," he said. "We won't waste it."

  Maya nodded, her expression hardening into determination. "The Keeper of Shadows will know what to do next. And she'll help us understand what you truly are." She looked back at Akhetai one last time. "Father always said knowledge is the best weapon against darkness. Now we carry that weapon."

  As their boat slipped silently downriver under the stars, Shim felt the weight of his new identity settling upon him. Samayara. The Balance Incarnate. Born to walk between realms. The corrupted forces that had invaded Akhetai would be hunting them now, but for the first time since arriving on Earth, he felt certain of his path.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The wild Prana of this realm still felt strange beneath his skin, but now he understood why—it was just one part of what he was meant to bridge. One piece of a much larger whole.

  Dawn was still hours away. By then, they would be far from Akhetai, carrying ancient secrets toward an uncertain future.

  The night deepened as their boat glided downriver, Akhetai's chaos receding into the distance. Maya had fallen silent, grief and exhaustion finally claiming her. She slept fitfully near the bow, the wooden chest of her father's legacy clutched tight against her even in slumber.

  Shim kept watch, steering their craft through moonlit waters while his mind processed everything that had happened. The wild Prana of Earth flowed differently here by the river—more fluidly, carrying echoes of distant places. He found himself able to sense it more clearly now, as if his encounter with the Keeper had awakened something within him.

  When the river widened into a calm stretch bordered by papyrus reeds, Shim guided the boat toward a sheltered inlet. They needed rest, and he needed to examine the scrolls the Keeper had entrusted to him.

  The First Pool crystal provided enough light to read by. Carefully, Shim unrolled the first scroll, revealing text in a script he'd never seen before—yet somehow understood. The words seemed to shift between languages, settling into forms his mind could comprehend.

  *The Prophecy of Samayara*, the text began. *When the Trinity fractures and falsity sits in creation's seat, the seed of balance shall awaken. Born of destruction's essence and creation's lifeblood, preserved by the eternal guardian, Samayara shall walk between all that is and all that might be.*

  The words resonated with something deep inside him, memories that weren't quite his own stirring like half-forgotten dreams.

  *Samayara carries the gift of passage, the burden of restoration, and the power of unity. Neither creation nor destruction alone, but the harmony between.*

  The scroll continued, describing how "the Balance Incarnate" would manifest—abilities to perceive and travel between realms, power that could purify corruption, and an instinctive understanding of the cosmic order. Each description matched experiences Shim had already had, explaining mysteries that had followed him since childhood.

  The second scroll contained detailed illustrations of the twelve realms, far more comprehensive than anything he'd seen in Madhya's archives. Here was the Ethereal Bridge, depicted as a nexus connecting all other planes. Here the Mortal Realm—Earth—shown as a foundation stone. The Abyss, the Sanctum of Sacred Fire, the Paradise... all represented with symbols that pulsed with meaning.

  But it was the third scroll that truly captured his attention. It showed the corrupted deity—the false creator—in terrible detail. A being formed from the Destroyer's power but twisted into something that should never have existed. The text described how this entity had begun to corrupt the natural order, sending tendrils of influence across the barriers between realms.

  *The False One seeks what was denied: true creation. Unable to generate, it imitates. Unable to build, it corrupts. It seeks Samayara not to destroy but to absorb, to claim the power of true balance and bend all realms to a new, distorted order.*

  "They're hunting you specifically."

  Shim looked up to find Maya awake, watching him read. The grief in her eyes had hardened into something stronger—determination, perhaps, or resolve.

  "You understand these texts?" he asked.

  "Some. Father taught me the ancient scripts, though I don't have your... affinity for them." She moved closer, examining the scroll. "The false creator wants what you represent—true balance between opposing forces. Something it can never achieve on its own."

  Maya reached into the chest and withdrew a small object wrapped in protective linen. Carefully unwrapping it, she revealed a medallion that made Shim's breath catch. Half of it was crafted from material that resembled the Bridge's crystalline substance; the other half appeared to be forged from something darker, heavier.

  "The Symbol of Samayara," she said softly. "Father recovered it years ago from ruins far to the south. He said when the true Balance Incarnate appeared, it would respond."

  When Shim's fingers touched the medallion, both it and his pendant flared with sudden light. The First Pool crystal joined the chorus, all three resonating in perfect harmony. For a heartbeat, Shim felt connected to everything—the wild Prana of Earth, the distant song of the Bridge, even fainter echoes from realms he'd never seen.

  "The texts speak of three keys," Maya continued, watching the light play across his features. "Three artifacts that, together, can strengthen the barriers between realms or... tear them down completely. The medallion is one. Your pendant may be another."

  A sound from upriver interrupted them—distant but distinct. Horns, different from Akhetai's bronze signals. These carried a strange harmonic that made the medallion vibrate unpleasantly.

  "Hunters," Maya whispered, quickly rewrapping the medallion. "They're tracking us already."

  Shim carefully rolled the scrolls, securing them in their protective cases. "How far to the Keeper of Shadows?"

  "Two days if we travel day and night." Maya's expression was grim. "But the river passes through many territories. Some controlled by those loyal to the temple, others by tribes who want nothing to do with Akhetai's politics. And some..."

  "Controlled by the corrupted forces," Shim finished. He looked downstream, where the river curved into darkness. The medallion's brief connection had shown him something—a vision of paths stretching before them, some bright with possibility, others dark with danger. But all converging on a distant point he couldn't quite see.

  "We should go," he said, pushing the boat back into the current. "The night will hide us for now."

  As they drifted back into deeper water, Maya studied him with new intensity. "What did you see? When you touched the medallion?"

  Shim considered how to explain the vastness he'd glimpsed. "Everything connected," he finally said. "All realms, all barriers... like looking at the Map of Realms, but alive. Moving." He paused, remembering one detail that had stood out. "And something else. A temple, far to the east. Where the sun rises over mountains that touch the sky."

  Maya's eyes widened. "The Temple of Dawn. Where the Keeper of Truth resides." She pulled out the map of Keepers' locations, studying it with fresh understanding. "Father marked it as our final destination, after gathering the other keys."

  The distant horns sounded again, closer now. Without discussion, they both worked to guide their craft into a side channel where overhanging trees provided cover. As they navigated the narrower waters, Shim felt his awareness expanding. The Prana here responded differently to his presence now, as if recognizing Samayara where before it had only sensed an outsider.

  "There will be more than hunters," he said quietly. "If what your father showed me is true, the false creator will send worse than shadows and fire across the barrier."

  "Then we'd better find the Keeper of Shadows quickly." Maya's voice carried a strength that belied her years. "Father used to say that sometimes the darkness itself can teach us how to find the light."

  As their boat slipped silently through the night, Shim realized how much had changed in a single day. He had arrived on Earth searching for answers about himself, only to find a world in the early stages of the same conflict threatening the Bridge. And now he carried not just his own destiny, but the legacy of the Keeper of Records and the hopes of a girl who had lost everything to forces she barely understood.

  The medallion pulsed once more against his chest, joining the rhythm of the pendant and the First Pool crystal. Three pieces of different realms, united in purpose. Perhaps that was what being Samayara truly meant—bringing harmony to what should never have been divided.

  Dawn broke over the river in shades of amber and gold. Shim and Maya had navigated through the night, taking turns steering their small craft through increasingly unfamiliar waters. The river had widened, its banks now lined with dense papyrus thickets and occasional fishing villages where early risers already cast nets into the current.

  "We need to avoid the main settlements," Maya said, gesturing toward a distant cluster of mud-brick buildings on the eastern shore. "The temple's influence is strong in the river towns. After what happened in Akhetai, they'll have messengers on horseback spreading word to watch for us."

  Shim nodded, guiding their boat closer to the western bank where massive reeds provided better cover. The medallion had grown warmer throughout the night, its energy synchronizing with his own Prana in ways that made him increasingly sensitive to the flows around them. Even now, he could feel disturbances upstream—corrupted energies moving faster than their small boat could travel.

  "They're still following," he said quietly. "Not just human pursuers."

  Maya's expression tightened. "The Abyss-touched?"

  "Something else. Different corruption." Shim closed his eyes, focusing on the unfamiliar signature. "It feels... fluid. Changeable."

  "Morph-shapers," Maya whispered, her hand instinctively going to the knife at her belt. "Touched by the Twilight Plane. They can alter their form, become almost anyone." She scanned the riverbanks with new wariness. "Father said they were the most dangerous of the corrupted. They don't just wield stolen power—they're changed by it."

  The sun climbed higher, its heat intensifying. They guided the boat into a hidden channel where ancient willows created a natural archway over the water. Here, at least, they could rest momentarily without being spotted from the main river.

  Maya unpacked a small bundle of dried fish and fruit—provisions she'd grabbed during their frantic escape. As they ate, she studied the map of Keepers.

  "The Keeper of Shadows lives in Neferet, a settlement built around ancient caves," she explained, tracing the route with her finger. "The locals believe the caves lead to the underworld, but Father said they're actually natural weak points between realms."

  "Like the Map chamber in Akhetai?"

  "Similar, but different. The Map was constructed deliberately. The Neferet caves formed naturally where the barrier between our realm and the Realm of Shadows is thinnest." She rolled up the map carefully. "If anyone can help us understand how to use the medallion, it's—"

  A splash interrupted her—too large for a fish, too deliberate for natural movement. Both froze, listening intently. For several heartbeats, only the gentle sound of water lapping against their boat broke the silence.

  Then they heard it—breathing, not quite human, from somewhere in the reeds ahead.

  Shim motioned for Maya to stay low as he carefully reached for the steering oar. But before he could grasp it, the water around their boat began to move strangely, swirling in patterns that defied the current. A voice spoke from everywhere and nowhere at once.

  "The Balance walks on water, fleeing what cannot be escaped." The voice was melodic yet wrong, like music played on instruments that shouldn't exist. "The False Creator extends his greetings, Samayara."

  The water rose around them, forming into a humanoid shape with eyes that shifted between colors not found in nature. This was no ordinary corrupted human—this was something that had once been human but had given itself completely to powers from another plane.

  "Morph-shaper," Maya breathed, her knife now drawn though it seemed pitifully inadequate against such a being.

  The water-form inclined its head in acknowledgment. "Once, I had a name and form like yours. Now I am Vesh'nar, Voice of the Twilight." Its fluid features shifted into an approximation of a smile. "The False Creator offers terms. Come willingly, Balance-Born, and the girl lives. Resist, and we take you anyway, leaving nothing behind."

  Shim felt the medallion burning against his chest, responding to the corrupted power before them. The wild Prana of the river surged around them, eager yet untamed. Unlike on the Bridge, he couldn't simply direct it—here, power required negotiation, respect.

  "You say I can't escape," Shim replied, standing slowly in the boat. "Yet here I stand, while your master sends servants instead of coming himself."

  The water-being's features darkened. "The False Creator walks between greater matters. Soon, when the barriers fall completely, he will walk this realm as easily as his own." Its form expanded, water drawing up from the river until it towered over their small boat. "Last chance, Samayara. Come willingly."

  "I don't think so." Shim's hands began to glow, not with the golden light he'd wielded before, but with something deeper, more primal. The medallion activated fully, its dual nature—half Bridge crystal, half something darker—creating a harmony with the First Pool crystal and his pendant.

  For the first time since arriving on Earth, Shim felt truly connected to his power as Samayara. Not forcing the wild Prana to his will, but merging with it, becoming a conduit between realms. Between his hands, energy coalesced—not destroying the water-being, but purifying it, separating corrupted power from the natural element.

  "Impossible," Vesh'nar hissed as its form began to destabilize. "You haven't awakened enough to—"

  Whatever it meant to say was lost as Shim completed the separation. Pure water fell back into the river while corrupted Twilight energy dissipated in wisps of unnatural color. Where the being had stood, only ripples remained.

  Shim staggered, the effort costing him more than he'd expected. Maya caught his arm, steadying him.

  "That was... different from before," she observed, her eyes wide.

  "It wasn't destruction," Shim said, understanding flowing through him with sudden clarity. "Samayara doesn't destroy corruption—it restores balance." He looked at his hands, the glow already fading. "I separated what belonged in this realm from what didn't."

  A horn sounded in the distance—different from those they'd heard before, deeper and more resonant. Maya's expression shifted from awe to alarm.

  "River guardians," she said urgently, pushing their boat back toward the main channel. "The morph-shaper wasn't alone. There will be human hunters too."

  As they emerged from the willow archway, they saw them—sleek black boats cutting through the water upstream, each bearing the golden emblem of Akhetai's temple. At least a dozen craft, filled with armed figures.

  "We'll never outrun them," Maya said, a note of despair entering her voice for the first time.

  Shim looked downriver, where the course split around a large island. The medallion pulsed once, drawing his attention to the eastern fork—a route that looked more dangerous, filled with partially submerged rocks and swifter currents.

  "We don't need to outrun them," he said with sudden certainty. "We need to take a path they can't follow."

  Understanding dawned in Maya's eyes. Together, they steered toward the eastern channel, their small craft picking up speed as the current strengthened. Behind them, the pursuit noticed their choice, horns blaring commands as the fleet divided, most following the safer western course to cut them off beyond the island.

  Only three boats followed them directly, their crews shouting as they entered the treacherous channel. These weren't ordinary temple guards, Shim realized as they drew closer. Their eyes gleamed with unnatural light, and shadows clung to them even in the bright morning sun. More corrupted humans, these bearing the mark of the Realm of Shadows.

  "The rocks get worse ahead," Maya warned, expertly guiding their craft around a jagged outcropping. "There's a reason most avoid this channel."

  "That's counting on normal navigation," Shim replied, his hand touching the medallion. Once again, he reached out to the wild Prana—not commanding but communing with it. The water responded, subtle currents shifting to guide their small boat through the maze of stone.

  Behind them, the first pursuit craft struck a submerged rock, its hull splintering. The second veered to avoid the same fate, only to become trapped in a swirling eddy. The third, more cautious, fell further behind.

  "How are you doing this?" Maya asked, watching in amazement as their boat seemingly found the perfect path through impossible obstacles.

  "I'm not," Shim admitted. "I'm asking, and the river is answering." The medallion gleamed, its dual nature perfect for this task—bridging his intention with the realm's natural flow.

  The channel narrowed further, forcing them between towering stone formations that left barely enough space for their small craft. Sunlight diminished as the rocks closed in above them, creating a natural tunnel. For several tense minutes, they navigated in near darkness, the sound of rushing water their only guide.

  Then, abruptly, they emerged into blinding sunlight. The river opened before them, flowing strong and clear toward distant hills. Behind them, the rocky passage looked impossibly narrow, a barrier their pursuers couldn't hope to navigate.

  But their respite would be temporary. Already, Shim could sense the other boats racing around the western channel, perhaps an hour behind them now instead of minutes.

  "We need to leave the river," he said, scanning the banks for a suitable landing spot.

  Maya nodded in agreement. "There's a secret path the Keepers use, through the hills rather than following the river to Neferet. Father marked it on the map." Her expression grew solemn. "It will be harder going, but the hunters won't expect it."

  As they guided their craft toward a secluded cove, Shim felt the medallion's warmth subside. Its power seemed to ebb and flow, not yet fully awakened. Like himself, he realized—glimpses of Samayara's true potential shining through, but much still dormant.

  Maya secured the boat while Shim gathered their precious cargo—the scrolls, the chest, the map of Keepers. The sun was high overhead now, beating down mercilessly as they prepared for the overland journey.

  "The Keeper of Shadows will have answers," Maya said, as much to reassure herself as him. "About the medallion, about what you're becoming."

  Shim looked back at the river one last time, sensing the pursuit still moving inexorably toward them. The water had helped them for now, but their journey was just beginning. The false creator's servants would not stop hunting them—not with the prize of Samayara's power at stake.

  "Then we'd better not keep her waiting," he replied, adjusting the scrolls securely across his back. Together, they turned toward the hills, leaving the relative safety of the river for the unknown dangers of the wilderness beyond.

  The hills rose in undulating waves of ochre and amber, their slopes dotted with twisted olive trees and thorny shrubs that scratched at exposed skin. Shim and Maya had been climbing since midday, following a path visible only to those who knew what to look for—subtle markers carved into stones, certain arrangements of pebbles at crucial junctions, plants that didn't quite belong growing in deliberate patterns.

  "The Keepers' Trail," Maya explained as they paused atop a ridge, the river now a silver ribbon in the distance behind them. "It connects all their sanctuaries across the ancient world. My father said it was old when the first stones of Akhetai were laid."

  From their vantage point, Shim could see how the landscape had been shaped by forces both natural and otherwise. The wild Prana flowed differently here than by the river—more earthen, more stable. The medallion at his chest hummed in quiet resonance with it, helping him sense their surroundings in ways his eyes couldn't.

  "There are... echoes here," he said, closing his eyes to focus on the sensation. "As if many have walked this path before us, carrying similar burdens."

  Maya nodded, adjusting the chest she carried. "The Keepers have been guardians of the realms' secrets for thousands of years. When the barriers weaken, they gather, sharing knowledge and artifacts." She looked at him with renewed intensity. "But none have ever traveled with Samayara before. You're what they've been waiting for, through countless generations."

  The weight of those words settled uneasily on Shim's shoulders. In Madhya, he had simply been different—a curiosity, perhaps, but still just Shim. Here, with each passing hour, he was becoming something more, something written into prophecies and carved onto ancient stones.

  As they continued their journey, the sun began its descent toward the western horizon. The trail took them through a narrow valley where massive boulders cast long shadows across their path. Birds circled overhead, their calls carrying strangely in the still air.

  "We should reach the sacred grove by nightfall," Maya said, checking the map. "It's a safe place to rest before—"

  She stopped abruptly, her body tensing. Shim felt it too—a subtle wrongness in the flow of energy ahead. Not corruption exactly, but disruption. Human presence where there shouldn't be.

  They crouched behind a boulder, watching as a group of travelers came into view in the valley below. Six figures moved with military precision, their garb unlike Akhetai's temple guards. These wore simple desert clothing, but carried themselves with unmistakable discipline. Mercenaries, perhaps, or scouts.

  "Serpent Brotherhood," Maya whispered, her expression darkening. "Assassins who serve whoever pays best. If they're here..." She didn't need to finish the thought. The temple's reach extended further than they'd hoped.

  The mercenaries paused at a junction in the trail, their leader kneeling to examine the ground. Even from a distance, Shim could see the man's methodical approach as he noted broken twigs and disturbed stones.

  "Trackers," Shim muttered. "They're following our trail from where we left the river."

  Maya's hand went to her knife, though the gesture seemed futile against six trained killers. "We can't go back, and we can't go forward while they're there."

  The medallion warmed against Shim's chest, drawing his attention to the deepening shadows as the sun sank lower. An idea formed—not fully his own, but emerging from his developing connection to his nature as Samayara.

  "The Balance walks between light and shadow," he said softly, recalling words from the prophecy scroll. "I think... I think I can hide us. Not by fighting the shadows, but by becoming one with them."

  Maya looked skeptical but nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

  "Trust me," Shim replied, taking her hand. "And stay very still."

  He closed his eyes, focusing on the medallion's unique energy. Unlike his previous workings with Prana, where he had drawn power through himself, this required merging with what already existed. He reached out to the lengthening shadows around them, not commanding them but inviting them, opening himself to their nature.

  The medallion responded, its dual aspects—light and dark, creation and destruction—perfectly suited to this task. Shadows gathered around them, not as a cloak or disguise, but as a kind of harmonization. They didn't disappear; rather, they became part of the shadow-play of the valley itself, indistinguishable from the natural patterns of light and dark.

  Maya's grip on his hand tightened as the sensation washed over them. "This is..." she began, then fell silent as one of the mercenaries looked directly toward their position.

  The man stared for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. Then, apparently seeing nothing unusual, he turned back to his companions. Through their strange shadow-state, Shim and Maya watched as the group conferred, then split up—four continuing along the trail, two doubling back toward the river.

  "They're covering all possible routes," Maya whispered, her voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere in their shadow-state.

  "Then we'll take an impossible one," Shim answered. Still maintaining their connection to the shadows, he guided Maya up the steep slope of the valley wall—a route no normal traveler would attempt, especially not in the fading light.

  The effort of maintaining their shadow-state while navigating the treacherous climb was immense. By the time they reached the ridge above, safely out of sight of the mercenaries, Shim was trembling with exhaustion. The shadow-effect dissipated, leaving them solid and visible once more.

  "That was... I've never experienced anything like that," Maya said, steadying him as he sank to his knees. "It wasn't like the powers the Kharok use. This was... harmonious."

  "Balance," Shim said between deep breaths. "Not fighting against the nature of things, but finding harmony within them." He looked at the medallion, which had dimmed to a soft glow. "I think that's what Samayara truly is—not power over the realms, but connection between them."

  They rested only briefly before continuing, now following the ridge line instead of the trail below. The path was harder, but it kept them above and parallel to the trail the mercenaries followed. As true night fell, the stars emerged in constellations unfamiliar to Shim—another reminder of how far he was from the Bridge.

  "The sacred grove should be just ahead," Maya said as they carefully descended from the ridge hours later. "We can rest there until dawn."

  The grove, when they finally reached it, was a place of ancient power. Massive trees formed a natural circle around a small clearing, their trunks carved with the same symbols Shim had seen in the scrolls. At the center stood a stone altar, weathered by millennia but still emanating a subtle resonance that made the medallion pulse in recognition.

  "A meeting place for Keepers," Maya explained, setting down her burden with a sigh of relief. "Consecrated to remain pure, even when the world around it changes."

  Shim felt it immediately—the absence of corruption, the balance of energies. Here, the wild Prana of Earth flowed in harmonious patterns, creating a sanctuary where they could truly rest. The trees themselves seemed to stand guard, their ancient presence a balm to his exhausted spirit.

  As Maya gathered wood for a small, sheltered fire, Shim examined the altar more closely. Its surface was carved with a depiction of the twelve realms, similar to the Map in Akhetai but more abstract, focusing on the relationships between planes rather than their physical forms.

  "The original purpose of the Keepers," Maya said, noticing his interest as she kindled the fire, "wasn't just to preserve knowledge. It was to maintain these places of balance throughout the world. Nexus points where the barriers are naturally strongest."

  "And where Samayara could draw strength," Shim added, understanding flowing through him as his hand passed over the carvings. The medallion resonated with the altar, ancient energies recognizing each other.

  They ate a spare meal of dried fruits and bread from Maya's provisions, the fire's gentle light creating a sphere of warmth in the deepening night. Around them, the grove seemed to breathe, its ancient power offering protection from prying eyes.

  "Tomorrow we'll reach Neferet by midday," Maya said, studying the map one last time before carefully returning it to the chest. "The Keeper of Shadows will be expecting us... or at least, expecting someone. Father sent messages to all the Keepers when the first signs appeared."

  "What signs?" Shim asked, realizing he still knew so little about how this had all begun.

  Maya's expression grew solemn in the firelight. "Three moons ago, when the barriers first began to weaken noticeably, strange phenomena appeared across the ancient world. Wells that had flowed for centuries ran backward for a single day. Shadow and light played tricks, showing glimpses of other realms. And in Akhetai's temple..." She paused, her voice dropping lower. "The sacred flame turned black, burning cold instead of hot."

  They departed the sacred grove at first light, leaving no trace of their presence save for the faint impressions on the altar where the medallion had rested during the night. Shim had placed it there at Maya's suggestion, allowing the ancient stone to harmonize with the artifact. By morning, the medallion's glow had deepened, its energies more stable, more accessible to his developing abilities.

  Their path took them away from the main trail, following a route only Maya could perceive—markers visible solely to those taught by a Keeper. The landscape changed gradually, rocky hills giving way to limestone formations that rose like pale sentinels against the sky. Water had carved this land over millennia, creating a maze of natural arches, hidden valleys, and caves that yawned open like ancient mouths.

  "Neferet lies within the Whispering Canyons," Maya explained as they navigated a narrow path between towering walls of white stone. "The people here have lived alongside the shadows since before recorded history. They don't fear what they don't understand—they respect it."

  The sound came to them first—a low, rhythmic humming that seemed to emerge from the stone itself. Then, as they rounded a bend in the canyon, Neferet revealed itself. Unlike Akhetai's imposing walls and temples, this settlement had been built in harmony with the natural world. Dwellings were carved directly into the canyon walls, their entrances decorated with intricate patterns in red and black. Bridges of rope and wood spanned the gaps between canyon sides, creating a three-dimensional community that extended both outward and upward.

  At the canyon's heart, a vast cave opening dominated the landscape. Unlike the smaller dwelling-caves, this entrance was a perfect arch, its surface covered with symbols that glowed with a subtle blue luminescence even in daylight. The humming emanated from this opening, a sound not quite musical yet somehow deliberate.

  "The Shadow Gate," Maya said with reverence. "Where our realm and the Realm of Shadows touch most closely."

  People moved through the canyon settlement with unhurried purpose, their clothing simpler than Akhetai's elaborate styles, dyed in shades of indigo, black, and deep purple. They nodded to Maya and Shim as they passed, showing neither surprise nor alarm at the presence of strangers—a stark contrast to the suspicion they'd faced elsewhere.

  "The Keeper's influence," Maya explained, noting Shim's surprise at their welcome. "In Neferet, difference isn't feared but studied."

  They made their way toward the great cave, following a spiraling path that descended to the canyon floor. As they drew closer, Shim felt the medallion responding to something—not the corrupted energies they'd encountered before, but a different kind of power. Pure, though distinctly alien to his experience on the Bridge.

  At the cave entrance stood a solitary figure—a woman whose exact age was impossible to determine. Her silver hair was elaborately braided with black cords, and her dark skin was marked with intricate patterns in blue ink that seemed to shift slightly when viewed from different angles. She wore robes of deepest indigo, embroidered with symbols matching those on the cave entrance.

  Most striking, however, were her eyes. They held no whites or irises—only depthless darkness that somehow still conveyed warm welcome.

  "Samayara walks the ancient path at last," she said, her voice carrying the same harmonics as the cave's humming. "And brings with him the daughter of the Record Keeper." She extended her hands, palms up in greeting. "I am Zathara, Keeper of Shadows. I have awaited this meeting for longer than you might believe."

  Maya stepped forward first, placing her hands briefly on Zathara's in the traditional greeting of Keepers. "My father—" she began, voice catching.

  "Has joined the eternal record," Zathara finished gently. "Yes, I felt his passing. His sacrifice will not be forgotten, child." Her shadow-filled eyes turned to Shim. "But he completed his task. He found you, Samayara, and set you on your path."

  Shim approached slowly, the medallion pulsing stronger with each step. When he placed his hands on Zathara's, a connection formed instantly—not invasive, but revelatory. In that brief touch, he understood that the darkness in her eyes wasn't merely symbolic. Zathara existed partially in the Realm of Shadows, her consciousness bridging both planes simultaneously.

  "You walk two worlds at once," he said, understanding flowing through him.

  She smiled. "As do you, though your journey spans far more than two. Come. There is much to discuss, and time grows shorter with each passing moment."

  The interior of the Shadow Gate defied mundane description. The cave extended deep into the earth, but distance and direction seemed fluid concepts here. Shadows moved with purpose along the walls, not cast by any visible light source but existing independently. The air itself felt thicker, as if they walked through the membrane between realms rather than merely inside a cave.

  Zathara led them to a circular chamber where the boundaries between worlds seemed thinnest. Here, reality shifted subtly with each heartbeat—stone becoming shadow becoming stone again. At the chamber's center stood a pedestal holding what appeared to be a perfect cube of pure darkness.

  "The Shadow Prism," Zathara explained, gesturing to the impossible object. "One of the three keys mentioned in the prophecy. Like your medallion, it exists in multiple realms simultaneously."

  Maya set down her father's chest, retrieving the map of Keepers. "Father marked Neferet as our first destination after Akhetai. He believed the keys were essential to restoring the barriers."

  "Ashek was correct, as always." Zathara's expression softened at the mention of Maya's father. "The three keys were separated long ago to prevent their misuse. Together, they can either strengthen the barriers between realms or dissolve them entirely." She turned to Shim. "This is why the False Creator hunts you so relentlessly, Samayara. You are the only being who can unite the keys properly."

  "Because I'm connected to all realms," Shim said, understanding blossoming within him.

  "Yes. Born of creation and destruction, preserved by balance." Zathara gestured to the medallion. "That artifact you carry is the Balance Key. The Shadow Prism is the second. The third—the Light Crystal—is held by the Keeper of Truth in the eastern mountains."

  She moved to a wall covered in shifting shadows that formed and reformed into images—maps, symbols, faces. "But events are moving faster than even the Keepers anticipated. The False Creator's servants have already begun searching for the Light Crystal. And worse, they've discovered how to force breaches between realms."

  The shadows coalesced into a vision of devastation—a distant city where the sky had torn open, releasing creatures that should never have existed in the mortal realm. Buildings burned with unnatural fire, and people fled before shadows that hunted with terrible purpose.

  "Menkar," Maya whispered in horror. "The City of Pillars."

  "Three days ago," Zathara confirmed grimly. "The first of many deliberate incursions. The False Creator no longer relies on human servants alone. He sends his true forces across weakened barriers."

  Shim felt the medallion—the Balance Key—pulse in response to the images. "How do I stop this? I've only just begun to understand what I am."

  "By completing what you were born to do," Zathara replied. "Unite the three keys, strengthen the barriers, and confront the False Creator in his own realm." She turned to the Shadow Prism. "But first, you must fully awaken to your nature as Samayara. Each key will help you recover aspects of yourself that remain dormant."

  With a gesture that seemed to bend space itself, Zathara lifted the Shadow Prism from its pedestal. Unlike normal objects, it cast no shadow—instead, it seemed to absorb the shadows around it.

  "Approach, Samayara," she commanded. "Take the second key."

  Shim stepped forward, the Balance Key warming against his skin. As his hands neared the Shadow Prism, the two artifacts began to resonate visibly—one in pulses of balanced light and dark, the other in waves of pure shadow.

  "What will happen?" he asked, hesitating at the threshold of something momentous.

  "Revelation," Zathara said simply. "The shadow aspects of your nature will awaken. You will remember what you have always been, through countless cycles of existence."

  With a deep breath, Shim reached out and took the Shadow Prism. The moment his fingers touched its impossible surface, both artifacts flared with power. The chamber around them vanished, replaced by a vision of swirling realms—the twelve planes Shim had always seen from the Bridge, but now from a perspective beyond any single world.

  And with the vision came knowledge—cascading into his consciousness like a waterfall of memory. He saw cycles of existence, the eternal dance of creation and destruction, preservation maintaining the delicate balance. He saw himself—or rather, Samayara—emerging in previous cycles when balance faltered, taking different forms but always serving the same purpose.

  Most importantly, he understood the true nature of the False Creator—a being born of the Destroyer's power but given creation's role, a fundamental contradiction that threatened the cosmic order itself. Neither truly creative nor properly destructive, it existed as a distortion in reality's fabric.

  When the vision faded, Shim found himself kneeling on the chamber floor, the Shadow Prism and Balance Key hovering before him, orbiting each other in perfect harmony. Maya and Zathara watched in solemn silence as the artifacts gradually settled—the Balance Key returning to his chest, the Shadow Prism transforming into a pendant of dark crystal that joined it.

  "Two keys united," Zathara said quietly. "Your journey to wholeness begins."

  Shim stood slowly, feeling fundamentally changed. The wild Prana of Earth now flowed through him differently—no longer alien but recognized as one aspect of a greater whole. He could sense the barriers between realms more clearly, feel their weakened state, understand what would be required to heal them.

  "The Light Crystal," he said with newfound clarity. "We need to reach it before the False Creator's servants."

  "Yes," Zathara agreed. "But the path to the Temple of Dawn is treacherous, especially now." She turned to the wall of shadows, which shifted to show a map of mountain ranges far to the east. "You cannot take the Keepers' Trail—it's being watched too closely. Instead, you must go through the Shadow Roads."

  Maya's eyes widened. "The pathways through the Realm of Shadows itself? But mortals can't survive there."

  "Ordinary mortals, no," Zathara conceded. "But you travel with Samayara, and now he carries the Shadow Prism. The roads will recognize and protect you both." She placed a hand on Maya's shoulder. "Your father knew this might be necessary. It's why he marked Neferet as your first destination."

  Shim looked down at the two keys now hanging from his neck—one balanced between light and dark, one purely shadow. "How do we access these roads?"

  "Through the deepest part of the Shadow Gate," Zathara explained. "Where our realm and the Realm of Shadows are separated by the thinnest of veils. I will guide you to the entrance, but once you step through, you must find your own way." Her shadow-filled eyes held a mixture of hope and concern. "The journey will take you directly beneath the barriers between realms. You will see the damage firsthand... and perhaps begin to heal what you can along the way."

  As they prepared for the next phase of their journey, gathering supplies and studying maps that showed where the Shadow Roads might emerge near the Temple of Dawn, Shim found a moment alone with Maya.

  "Are you certain you want to continue?" he asked quietly. "The Shadow Roads... they're not meant for humans."

  Maya's expression was resolute, though her hands trembled slightly as she packed her father's scrolls. "My father died to set you on this path. The Keepers have prepared for this moment for generations." She looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears and fierce determination. "I may not be Samayara, but I am a daughter of the Keepers. My path lies alongside yours, at least until you find the Light Crystal."

  Before Shim could respond, Zathara called to them from deeper in the cave. "It is time. The alignment is perfect, and the shadows grow receptive."

  Together, they followed the Keeper of Shadows into depths where reality itself began to fray. The walls of the cave gave way to something less defined—not quite solid, not quite void. Ahead, a rectangular passage opened into perfect darkness, its edges shimmering like heat over desert sand.

  "The entrance to the Shadow Roads," Zathara said, stopping at the threshold. "Once you step through, you will be in a realm of in-between. Neither fully in the mortal world nor completely in the Realm of Shadows." She turned to Shim, her expression grave. "The Shadow Prism will guide you, but remember—in that place, thought becomes reality more easily than here. Your fears, your doubts, your hopes... all may take form around you."

  She pressed something into Maya's hand—a small disk of obsidian carved with protective symbols. "A Keeper's Token. It will help shield your mind from the worst effects of the Roads."

  With final words of guidance and a blessing in an ancient tongue, Zathara stepped back. Shim felt the Shadow Prism stir against his chest, reaching toward the darkness beyond the threshold like a lodestone finding north.

  "Ready?" he asked Maya, offering his hand.

  She took it firmly, her other hand clutching the obsidian token. "Ready."

  Together, they stepped through the shimmering portal and into the Shadow Roads, leaving the mortal realm behind. Behind them, Zathara watched as the portal slowly closed, sealing them into their journey beneath the fabric of reality itself.

  "May balance guide your steps, Samayara," she whispered to the empty cave. "For all our sakes."