The stars screamed the night the Rift was born.

Not with sound, but with a silence so deep it erased galaxies. Somewhere between the dying of a world and the breath of a new one, something tore—a jagged scar across the very skin of time.

A glowing line slashed across the sky of ten thousand realities, seen by prophets, felt by machines, and feared by gods.

In one realm, a clock tower shattered at midnight.

In another, a sword forged from starlight pulsed awake in the hands of a child.

And somewhere, in the heart of a realm untouched by war, a girl named Auren looked up and saw her sky bleed fire.

On the other side, amidst the smoke of burning cities and broken dreams, a boy named Riven fell to his knees as time stopped around him—just for a moment. A whisper not in his ears, but in his bones.

"It’s beginning again."

The Rift had awakened. And with it, so had the forgotten bond between two souls separated not just by distance—but by destiny itself.