Aren, Thalyon, Eliath, and Lazryn—the designated guides of the six player Chosen—had also become Chosen themselves.

  While their role was to lead and assist the six, a deeper truth remained hidden—they were no longer just NPCs. They, too, were Chosen.

  Their transformation granted them player privileges, allowing them to level up, take quests, and forge their own paths. Yet, they still retained their NPC authority, existing in both worlds at once—a bridge between the scripted and the free.

  The six player Chosen remained unaware of this revelation.

  For now, Aren, Thalyon, Eliath, and Lazryn would continue to guide them. But when the time came, they knew the truth would be unavoidable.

  Because the Rift had not just selected them.

  It had changed them.

  ---

  Kaelith Soryn was born in Avylis, a tranquil town where destiny itself seemed unnaturally aligned, guiding its people toward prosperity.

  His parents were renowned scholars, their lives dedicated to studying ancient texts on Ethryne, the Weaver of Fates. Drawn to their work, Kaelith soon discovered his own gift—the rare ability to see the threads of destiny in others.

  A prodigy of fate, he was taken in by the Destiny Scribes, an elusive guild dedicated to interpreting Ethryne’s will. Under their guidance, Kaelith learned to weave and sever the threads of fate, shaping events with unseen hands.

  His gift elevated him to the highest ranks of the guild, but it also caught the attention of Ethryne herself.

  During a mission to prevent a catastrophic war, she appeared in a vision, granting him the Loom of Possibilities, an artifact that allowed him to bind and manipulate the fates of others.

  His final act in the war became legend—Kaelith wove the fates of two warring kings together, forcing them to feel each other’s triumphs and losses. The sheer intimacy of shared pain and victory shattered their hatred, and they abandoned the war.

  But not everyone saw his power as a gift.

  The guild, fearing his influence disrupted the natural order, expelled him.

  Now, as a rogue Fateweaver, Kaelith wanders Eidolon, guided only by Ethryne’s whispers.

  When the Rift called, he knew.

  This was no longer about shaping the fate of a single world.

  It was about something far greater.

  ---

  Aren was raised in Gloamsreach, a town perpetually shrouded in twilight, where the dead did not always stay buried.

  His family—the Valriks—were Cryptkeepers, tending to the town’s ancient graves and ensuring that restless spirits remained undisturbed.

  But Aren was different.

  From childhood, he could vanish into shadows, slipping unseen through the haunted ruins of Gloamsreach. His abilities were both gift and terror, at first used for mischief—until the curse came.

  A dark force swept through the town, reanimating the dead.

  His parents sacrificed themselves to stop the plague, sealing the spirits in a forbidden vault. Left alone, Aren took up the mantle of Cryptkeeper, vowing to guard the town’s secrets.

  It was during one such vigil that Morthalus, the Shadow Keeper, appeared to him.

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  Taking the form of a wraith, the entity bestowed Aren the Cloak of Endurance, enhancing his ability to fade into the darkness and endure attacks that would fell lesser warriors.

  With this newfound power, Aren became more than a guardian of Gloamsreach—he became an unseen sentinel, protecting relics, secrets, and ancient vaults too dangerous to be left unguarded.

  When the Rift called, Aren understood.

  This was not just about protecting a single town’s graves and crypts.

  This was about guarding something far greater—secrets hidden within the Rift itself.

  ---

  Thalyon was born in Solvaris, the radiant capital of order and light. His lineage could be traced to the city’s founders, warriors sworn to Solantra, the Radiant Arbiter.

  Raised among nobles, Thalyon mastered the arts of leadership, diplomacy, and war. He was beloved by the people, not for his birthright, but for his belief—that leadership was not about power, but service.

  His ideals, however, often clashed with Solvaris’ rigid hierarchy.

  His trial by fire came when an army of shadow creatures laid siege to the city.

  For days, he led the defense, but the shadows kept coming. Solvaris’ walls began to fall.

  And then—Solantra herself descended.

  Her divine light illuminated the battlefield as she chose Thalyon as her champion, gifting him the Beacon of Unity—an artifact that amplified his leadership, allowing his people to fight as one.

  With renewed strength and coordination, they turned the tide.

  Solvaris was saved.

  Yet, the victory left Thalyon restless.

  The Rift had begun whispering in his dreams.

  Visions of unification, survival, and impending catastrophe consumed his thoughts.

  And so, he left Solvaris behind, knowing this was his true trial.

  He had led a city.

  Now, he would lead the Chosen.

  ---

  Lazryn was an orphan, raised in the lawless city of Calvarith—where survival demanded cunning, deception, and unpredictability.

  He thrived in chaos, using it as a weapon.

  By his teenage years, he was feared and revered, known for pulling off impossible feats, surviving suicidal missions, and turning hopeless odds into victories.

  And then he stole the wrong artifact.

  Buried deep beneath Calvarith, an ancient relic pulsed with latent chaos energy. When Lazryn touched it, reality shattered—and Xypheros, the God of Chaos and Potential, took notice.

  The deity, amused by his recklessness, granted him the Chaos Seed, an artifact that allowed him to bend disorder to his will.

  With it, he toppled the factions of Calvarith, ending their rule of oppression and bloodshed.

  But chaos does not rest.

  And neither did he.

  The Rift was his next challenge.

  A stage where uncertainty reigned—where even the gods could be thrown into disarray.

  Lazryn would not just survive it.

  He would thrive in it.

  ---

  Aren. Thalyon. Lazryn. Kaelith.

  They were selected to guide the Chosen.

  But they had also become Chosen themselves.

  Not just NPCs. Not just players.

  Something in between. Something unprecedented.

  The Rift was rewriting the rules.

  And they stood at the heart of its design.

  ---

  As they prepared to guide their Chosen, Aren, Thalyon, Lazryn, and Kaelith turned their thoughts to the two without a guide.

  Nash and Luna.

  Unlike the others, they had been left without mentors, yet this was not an oversight.

  The little they had gleaned from Eidolon revealed that Nash, the Veil Seeker, was like Eidolon’s child—blessed by the world itself. His very existence was woven into the Rift, tied to its essence in a way no other being was.

  Luna, however, was an anomaly.

  Her connection to Eidolon was unknown, unexplored—even by Eidolon itself. It did not understand why she was linked to it, nor what it would mean. Yet, there was one certainty.

  Neither of them needed guidance.

  Together, they would become the most unlikely duo—bound by fate, yet separate from the others. A force neither the Chosen nor the gods could predict.

  And that was precisely what made them dangerous.

  The Gods’ Lost Mantle

  Their minds then drifted to the divine remnants they carried—the mantle of the lost gods.

  This world had once been ruled by ten powerful deities, their influence shaping reality itself. But in the great war between Eidolon and the invading gods of another universe, they had vanished, their power scattered, forgotten.

  The gods who invaded were greedy, desperate to claim Eidolon for themselves, to bind it, consume it, rule it.

  But what they failed to understand was that even in defeat, Eidolon was once greater than they could fathom.

  Had it not been weakened, had it not been broken by an even older enemy… the outcome may have been different.

  The Rot.

  Eidolon had not fallen to the gods.

  It had already been dispirited, its strength drained by an existence far worse than divine war.

  A moment long forgotten—

  When Eidolon’s eyes, vast as the universe itself, widened in agony.

  Something had begun to consume it.

  An unknown force gnawed into its very being, a hunger so vast it defied existence itself.

  Its pain sent disasters rippling through worlds, each catastrophe an echo of its suffering.

  It had tried to fight.

  It had tried to strengthen the people of those planets, to make them more than what they were.

  But it had not been enough.

  Not to stop the Rot.

  For the first time, the guides felt small.

  Even with their newfound power, even with the weight of their dual existence as Chosen and guides, the truth settled deep in their bones.

  Eidolon had not fallen to the gods. It had already been consumed by something far worse.

  A cold silence stretched between them. The mere thought of it made the air feel heavier.

  If the Rot had weakened Eidolon before... what happens when it comes back?