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Never give into the darkness. No matter what. Those words had been drilled into Rift’s head since the day he had been gifted his thread-cutter, lovingly named itokiri. Now here, dozens upon dozens of realities away from home and on a lone platform in the middle of an eerily silent void, those words rang loud and clear in his head.
He used to be scared of the silence, so much so that his first trip through the fragments of fallen realities ended with him shaking and crying, begging his father to never make him go back in there. Now, he stood strong against the weightless yet oppressive force pressing on every inch of his body. Sighing, yet sure to not make too much noise, Rift took itokiri and steadied it in his hands, the blade in his right, the end of the long string wrapped around his left. He cracked the string like a whip, careful to not stand too close when the very strands of reality were torn apart to create a gateway for him. Get too close, and his very existence could be wiped out, just like his mother’s.
This reality was… a chilly one. There seemed to be a blizzard going on, making it impossible for him to see more than a few feet in front of him. Nonetheless, this was the only place he could go for now, and he wasn’t going to complain about location after ending up in that endless ocean. Rift was not about to admit that he can’t swim… At least the alternate version of himself was friendly and saved him from drowning. Mer universes were always a toss up for whether or not they were friendly.
Putting his itokiri away, Rift grabbed the other gift from his father, this one named sureddo hira, or just hira for short. It was a spool of pitch black thread that quivered with volatile magic at his touch, and a specially crafted needle that could handle such a thread. Rift got to his knees and began the process of stitching reality back together. As much as he hated blizzards, these people didn’t deserve it coming out and destroying everything.
The process was quick from years of experience, but the fact that his fingers started going numb from the cold didn’t help. The snow also lightened up as he worked, the whiteout reduced to a much thinner flurry that danced around. That also meant that he was visible as well… his cloak was great for many things, blending in in the snow was definitely not one of them.
“heya.” A familiar voice asked as Rift put his hira back in the pockets lining his cloak. He whipped around to face this alternate version of himself, not in the mood to back down if things became rough. There, in front of him, was an alternate version of himself seemingly made entirely of snow and ice, holding out his hand for a handshake.
“you’re not an elemental, are you.” His double asked, still holding up his hand.
“only a lost traveler.” Rift murmured, “i do not intend to harm, i am using this place as a stepping stone to return home.” He lifted his hands in front of him, both as a way of showing that they were one in the same, and that he was unarmed.
His double lowered his hand. “how do you intend to leave? portals don’t work here.”
“i do not travel with portals.”
“oh?” his couple sounded curious, “how do you travel then?”
Rift fetched his itokiri, preparing it much like he had before. “like this.”
With the flick of the wrist, a tear had formed in the very fabric of reality, the inky black calling out to him. Without a word, Rift stepped through the tear, grabbed the edges of the tear, brought the edges together, and coaxed the fabric to knit itself back together with his magic. Healing a rift in reality was much easier from inside the void than it was outside.
The void was silent as usual, the pitch-black darkness thick and all encompassing. Never give into the darkness. There was no land in sight, but there was at least solid ground. He would just have to keep an eye out for holes, just in case.
While Rift’s cloak was horrible at keeping him hidden in the snow, it was fantastic at keeping him hidden in the dark shadows of fragments. He had to be wary, lest he attract the attention of it ; a poor creature from some unsuspecting reality twisted and warped into an eternally hungry devourer of reality. There was a reason finding ruined fragments were so rare these days, but it was way too strong for only one person to take on, so the fragments were likely only going to disappear more and more with each passing day.
When a world died, it was swallowed by the void, and the majority of the land destroyed, only fragments remained.
A stray thread passed Rift, shimmering a dark purple. He snatched it, it was long enough to seal up a tear or two. The thread was added to hira. Rift continued to march forward, determined to find something, anything. You could not tell time in the species between reality, no matter how hard you tried. He could have been walking for hours, days even, or just a few seconds. He wouldn’t know until he left and checked his watch.
Finally, the ground shifted from pitch black, to a dark charcoal color, and a fragment appeared in front of him. A great stone staircase leading to nowhere, its destination long since swallowed by the void. Still, Rift climbed to the top, hoping that something may have remained. Each step was a gamble, would it break, or would it hold under his weight? Rift made it to the top without any accidents, and his reward? An old looking amulet, a bright orange gem sitting right in the middle. There was nothing magical about the necklace, only beauty. Oh well, at least it would fetch a good price at one of the many markets he stumbled across.
Taking itokiri one more time, hopefully the last time today before he settled down for the night, Rift made a tear in reality. There was something… familiar… about this universe… He wandered through, sewing the rift back together with his hira, and took in the landscape. It was a simple town in the surface world, like many he had seen before, with simple little houses and an intricate pattern right in the center where a statue stood. Why did this place seem so familiar?
Wait…
That flag hanging from one of the houses near the town square…
The pattern…
That was his father’s house.
This was his home.
This was his home!
He… he was home. After almost five years of wandering through worlds and realities, he was home.
Rift ran down the hill he was watching from until he made it to the entrance of the town. His running turned into a walking speed as he took off his hood and walked through the rows of houses. He passed a mother teaching her son how to use his own thread-cutter, a father repairing the outside of his house while children played in the garden, two teenagers comparing the amount of thread they had on their rift-menders.
Rift was home.
Rift was home .
There were a few people who stared at him for a few seconds, before their faces lit up in recognition and they ran off, likely to tell their friends that the infamous kid who disappeared half a decade prior was back.
Finally he made it to his parent’s house. Rift knocked on the door, nervous excitement wrapping itself around his soul. The door opened, revealing the face of his father, who only stared for a couple moments, before recognition set in.
His father, the stone-cold man who never let anyone see him cry, suddenly let out a sob as he fell forward onto his son. The two embraced as Rift’s own tears began to flow. Sometime during their embrace, the townspeople he had known most of his childhood had gathered to welcome him home.
“Where were you?” His father asked, checking Rift over for any injuries.
“i was lost, but i never gave into the darkness.” He said, letting his father check over his hands and arms.
Rift pushed forward once again, embracing his father.
“Come inside, we have a lot to catch up on.” His father said, guiding his long lost son inside.
He was home.