The forsaken Code.

Chapter Thirteen:. The Riftborn's Hunger.

The Riftborn loomed over them, its form flickering between states—sometimes solid, sometimes a twisting mass of shadows, its edges fraying like torn fabric against the eerie violet glow of the sky.

Noah’s body went rigid. His pulse roared in his ears. He had read about Riftborns in old texts—creatures that should not exist in any reality, beings that belonged to the space between worlds. But reading about them and standing in front of one were two different things entirely.

Killian took a step back, his fingers twitching toward his dagger. Vance remained eerily still, his golden eyes narrowed as he studied the creature.

The hooded woman—the one who had spoken to them—lifted a hand, as if holding the Riftborn at bay. “The Veil is weak,” she intoned. “And so, they come.”

Noah forced himself to find his voice. “They? There are more of these things?”

The woman nodded slowly. “Where the Rift thins, they gather.”

The Riftborn let out a low, reverberating growl that rattled Noah’s bones. It wasn’t just sound—it was something deeper, something ancient. It crawled through his mind, whispering things in a language he didn’t understand but somehow felt in his very soul.

You do not belong.

Noah stumbled back, clutching his head. His vision blurred—flashes of something else, another place, another time. Images that weren’t his own.

A city swallowed by shadows. A door standing alone in the void. A single voice, calling his name.

Then—pain.

Noah gasped as the Riftborn moved. It didn’t step—it shifted, flickering closer in an instant. A clawed hand stretched toward him, reaching as if to tear something out of him.

“Move!” Vance snapped, and suddenly, he was in motion. A silver dagger flashed through the air, embedding itself into the Riftborn’s outstretched arm.

The creature screeched, the sound twisting reality around them, warping the ruins beneath their feet. The hooded figures raised their hands in unison, murmuring words Noah didn’t understand. A wave of golden light pulsed outward, forcing the Riftborn back.

For a moment, silence.

Then, the creature let out a sound that was almost… amusement. The dagger that Vance had thrown melted into shadow, disappearing into the creature’s swirling mass.

“Did you just—” Killian started.

“Yes,” Vance interrupted grimly. “I pissed it off.”

The Riftborn lunged.

Noah barely had time to react before Killian grabbed him and yanked him out of the way. The ground where he had been standing cracked, warping into spirals of shifting darkness.

The hooded woman turned sharply toward Noah. “The key must be removed from this place!”

“What does that mean?!” Noah demanded.

Before she could answer, the Riftborn howled, and the ruins shattered.

The world tilted.

Noah’s vision went white.

And then—

He was falling again.

Noah’s stomach lurched as he plummeted through the void. There was no sky, no ground—just an endless stretch of twisting shadows. He couldn’t tell if he was falling for seconds or hours. Cold tendrils of darkness coiled around him, whispering things he couldn’t understand.

This is wrong.

His pulse hammered. He tried to move, but his body felt weightless, disconnected from reality. The voices grew louder, speaking in a language that wasn’t meant for human ears. A single phrase repeated over and over, like a chant.

Return what was taken.

Noah’s breath hitched. “What—what does that mean?” he rasped, but there was no answer, only the endless void pulling him deeper.

Then—

A hand grabbed his wrist.

The world snapped back into focus.

Noah gasped as he was yanked forward, crashing against something solid. His vision swam, and for a moment, all he could register was warmth—real, tangible warmth.

Then he heard a familiar voice.

“Noah! Hey—breathe, dammit!”

His eyes fluttered open. Killian’s face hovered above him, his expression twisted in concern. They were no longer in the ruins. Instead, they were sprawled on cold, cracked stone beneath a sky that wasn’t quite right—too dark, too still, the stars above looking more like unmoving eyes than celestial bodies.

“Where—” Noah tried to speak, his throat dry. “Where are we?”

Vance’s voice cut in, sharp and grim. “Not where we’re supposed to be.”

Noah turned his head and saw Vance standing a few feet away, his golden eyes scanning their surroundings. He was tense, every muscle coiled like a predator ready to strike. Beyond him, the hooded woman was on her knees, breathing heavily.

Something was very, very wrong.

Killian helped Noah sit up. “That thing—whatever it was—it dragged us here.” His grip on Noah’s shoulder was firm, grounding. “You good?”

Noah swallowed and nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure it was true. His mind still echoed with the Riftborn’s whispers.

Vance exhaled sharply. “That wasn’t an accident. It wanted us here.”

The hooded woman finally spoke, her voice weak. “This… this is the Abyss of the Unclaimed.”

Killian stiffened. “That sounds ominous as hell.”

“It is.” The woman pushed herself to her feet, her cloak fluttering slightly. “It is a prison. A place where lost things linger.”

A chill ran down Noah’s spine.

Before he could ask what that meant, something moved in the distance.

A ripple in the air, like fabric being torn.

Vance immediately drew his dagger. “We’re not alone.”

The shadows ahead shifted. And then—they stepped forward.

Figures, wrapped in tattered remnants of time itself. Faces half-formed, flickering between different identities. Voices that weren’t voices at all, just fragmented memories forced into sound.

The Forgotten Ones.

The hooded woman inhaled sharply. “They do not remember who they were. Only that they were left behind.”

Noah’s heart pounded. The figures turned toward them, hollow gazes settling on him.

Then—

They moved.

The air turned heavy, thick with an unnatural weight that pressed against Noah’s chest. The figures stepped closer, their movements erratic, like puppets with tangled strings. Their faces twisted—flickering through emotions that didn’t belong to them, their hollow eyes locked onto him.

Noah swallowed hard. “Why are they looking at me like that?”

The hooded woman’s voice was grim. “Because you do not belong here.”

Neither did they, but that didn’t seem to matter. The Forgotten Ones remembered something about him—something important. And they didn’t like it.

Vance took a step forward, blade raised. “Do they attack?”

The woman hesitated. “Not always.”

Killian cursed. “That’s not reassuring.”

Then, as if a silent signal had passed between them, the Forgotten Ones lunged.

Vance reacted first, his blade flashing as he drove it into the nearest figure. It cut through like mist, but the thing reeled, its form flickering violently. Then it screeched—a sound that sent a chill through Noah’s bones.

Killian grabbed Noah’s wrist. “Move!”

They ran.

The ground beneath them wasn’t stable, shifting with each step. Noah’s breath came fast, heart slamming against his ribs. The Forgotten Ones didn’t run—they glided, their forms distorting and reforming as they pursued.

“Where are we even going?” Killian shouted.

No one answered. There was nowhere to go. The Abyss stretched infinitely, a place with no walls, no exits—just an endless void of things that had been left behind.

The hooded woman suddenly veered to the left. “There!”

Noah followed her gaze. In the distance, barely visible through the shifting shadows, stood a door. It wasn’t attached to anything—just a single, freestanding doorway pulsing with a faint blue glow.

Vance cursed. “That’s not natural.”

“No,” the woman agreed. “But it’s our only way out.”

The Forgotten Ones shrieked, closing in fast.

Noah didn’t think—he ran.

Killian was right beside him, his grip tight, keeping him steady as they sprinted for the door. Vance and the hooded woman followed, their weapons flashing to keep the creatures at bay.

They were almost there.

Almost—

Then something grabbed Noah’s ankle.

He barely had time to react before he was yanked down.

The ground vanished, and suddenly he was falling—dragged beneath the surface of the Abyss, into something deeper, darker, hungrier.

A whisper wrapped around him.

You are ours now.

And then—

Blackness.

Noah didn’t know if he was conscious or simply trapped in a nightmare.

Darkness wrapped around him like a second skin, thick and suffocating. He tried to move, but his body felt weightless, as if he were drifting through an endless void. A whisper curled around his ear, cold and inhuman.

You don’t belong here. You never did.

His pulse pounded in his ears. He turned his head, searching for something—anything—but there was nothing. Just emptiness.

Then, a flicker.

A single light, weak and distant.

Noah reached for it, struggling against whatever unseen force was holding him down. His limbs were sluggish, heavy, like they were submerged in tar. The whisper came again, closer this time.

They left us here. Just like they will leave you.

A chill ran through his spine. He didn’t know who they were, but something deep inside him whispered that the voice wasn’t lying.

A hand shot out from the darkness.

Noah barely had time to react before icy fingers clamped around his wrist.

He gasped, his body jolting as if struck by lightning. His vision blurred, and suddenly—

He was somewhere else.

---

Noah crashed to the ground, hard. The impact sent pain shooting up his arm, but he barely noticed. His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

This place was different. Not as dark, but still unnatural. The ground beneath him was smooth, almost like glass, but when he touched it, it felt like nothing—as if his fingers met only air. Above him, the sky swirled with stormy clouds that never settled, constantly shifting.

A voice called his name.

“Noah!”

He turned sharply. Killian. Relief flooded his chest as he saw his friend running toward him, his expression tight with worry.

Noah pushed himself up, his body still trembling. “What… what happened?”

Killian grabbed his shoulder. “You just disappeared. One second you were running toward the door, the next—gone.” He exhaled sharply. “We thought we lost you.”

Noah swallowed, his throat dry. “I think I was—” He hesitated. He didn’t even know how to explain it. “Something pulled me under.”

The hooded woman stepped forward, watching him closely. “You were caught by the Abyss.”

Vance scoffed. “Great. Another problem.”

Noah’s head ached. “What does that mean?”

The woman’s voice was grim. “It means the Abyss has marked you.”

Silence.

Noah’s heart clenched. “Marked me for what?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she lifted her hand and pointed at his wrist. Noah followed her gaze and felt his stomach drop.

A black mark curled around his skin, almost like a burn—but it wasn’t. It pulsed faintly, as if alive.

Vance cursed. Killian stepped back.

Noah’s breath came fast. “What… what is this?”

The woman’s expression was unreadable. “It means you don’t have much time.”

The words sent a cold spike of fear through him.

“What happens when time runs out?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She finally looked him in the eye.

“You become one of them.”