The Wisp-Keeper stood at the edge of the Threshold and watched the fractures spread.
They always started small. A hairline crack in the fabric between worlds. A shimmer in the air that shouldn't be there. A whisper of emotion so concentrated, so suppressed, that it began to solidify.
Rylan had seen it happen dozens of times before. Hundreds, maybe. He'd stopped counting years ago.
Another one was coming through.
He could feel it in the way the air tastedbitter and metallic, like fear left too long in the dark. Could see it in the way the Wisps overhead flickered and dimmed, responding to the corruption seeping through from the other side.
Someone was breaking.
And when they broke completely, they would fall through.
Into Aethelgard. Into his responsibility.
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