The Forgotten Eidolon

The masked man led him through the valley, into a canyon where the rock walls were marked with impossible symbols, shifting and pulsing as if alive.

Jan had seen ancient carvings before, but these moved.

"You are Riftborn," the man said without turning.

Jan frowned. "What does that mean?"

The man stopped, facing him. "It means your existence is fractured. You walk between realities without realizing it." He gestured at Jan's chest. "The Veilmark chose you, but it has not yet defined you."

Jan clenched his fists. "Then I'll define myself."

A quiet chuckle. "Will you? The Rift does not simply give power. It takes. What are you willing to lose?"

Jan hesitated. He had already lost so much. His past, his purpose—nothing had belonged to him since that night in Atris.

"...What are the consequences?" he finally asked.

The man's gaze sharpened. "Good. You are beginning to ask the right questions."

He turned and gestured to a massive stone archway ahead, its surface rippling like liquid.

"Step through," he said. "And see."

Jan felt an unnatural pull. His Veilmark burned hotter.

He didn't trust this man. He didn't trust any of this.

But something deep inside him knew—this was the path forward.

Jan took a breath. And stepped through.

The world broke.

For a moment, Jan was nowhere. Not in the canyon, not in Atris—just a vast, endless abyss.

Then, he was somewhere else.

A massive hall stretched before him, its walls lined with mirrors—but none of them showed his reflection.

Instead, each one showed another version of him.

Some were scarred. Some were older. Some wielded powers he couldn't comprehend.

One of them turned, staring directly at him.

"So, you finally arrived."

Jan's breath caught.

His reflection was speaking to him.