There are wars that history remembers—wars of kings and crowns, of armies and empires.

And then there are wars that should have never happened—battles that were fought in the spaces between worlds, in the shadows of history, where only a few ever knew the truth.

This was one of them.

A war that stretched across time, reaching back to the fall of Eldoria, to the lost Pact of the Twin Realms, and forward to a future that would bring even greater ruin.

And I, Merlin, was there when it began again.

A Whisper From the Past

There are few things that truly unnerve me anymore.

I have seen the rise and fall of empires. I have walked through the ruins of Eldoria, where the air still hums with the remnants of a war of magic that should never have been fought.

I have stood upon the walls of Alestria, watching an empire try and fail to break the spirit of a city that refused to kneel.

And yet, as I stepped into the abandoned village before me, a whisper of unease crawled up my spine.

This place was wrong.

Not in the way of a city sacked by invaders, nor like the haunted ruins of the Eldorian Gate, but in a way that felt… unreal.

The houses stood intact, yet lifeless.
The wells were full, yet no one drank from them.
The crops were ripe, yet untouched.

It was as if time had forgotten this place, leaving only an empty echo of life behind.

And then, the mist rolled in.

A cold fog crept along the ground, twisting around my boots, whispering as if it carried voices from another world.

Then, the first words came—spoken by nothing, heard by no one but me.

“The Pact is breaking. The Rift opens again.”

I turned sharply, staff raised.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but mist… and a shimmer in the air that should not have been there.

A shimmer I had seen before.

A shimmer that once destroyed a kingdom.

The Rift That Shouldn’t Exist

I have spent centuries chasing the echoes of broken pacts and forgotten gates.

The Rift that doomed Eldoria was meant to be sealed forever—locked away behind the Eldorian Gate, where its power could no longer spill into our world.

But as I reached out toward the invisible ripple in the air, I knew the truth.

This was not Eldoria’s Rift.

This was another.

A second breach.

One that had been hidden for a thousand years.

And now, someone had deliberately awakened it.

The Twin Realms Pact

Long before the fall of Eldoria, before the Siege of Alestria, before the first warriors ever set foot upon these lands, there was a time when this world was not one but two.

The Twin Realms—one of light and order, the other of shadows and magic.

They were never meant to be separate, nor to be together.

They existed side by side, bound by an ancient Pact, one that ensured that neither world could overrun the other.

But men, as always, sought to break what they did not understand.

Wars were fought.

Blood was spilled.

And finally, the realms were torn apart, their connection severed by the same kind of desperate magic that once sealed Eldoria’s Rift.

The Twin Realms Pact was forged—a law woven into the very fabric of magic, ensuring that neither world could ever breach the veil again.

But now…

That law was failing.

And I had a sinking feeling that this was not a natural collapse.

Someone was breaking the Pact on purpose.

The Betrayal of Velmora

I needed answers.

And there was only one place in the mortal world where such answers could be found.

Velmora.

A kingdom older than most, one that had survived every great war without ever being truly touched by destruction.

I had always found that… odd.

For a land to remain untouched while the world burned?

It meant they either had great wisdom… or great secrets.

And now, I suspected Velmora had both.

For when I arrived at the gates of their capital, I saw something that confirmed my fears.

The city was untouched by war, just as it always had been.

But not because they were ignorant of it.

Because they were expecting it.

Because they had caused it.

The War Had Already Begun

I made my way into the Elder Archives of Velmora, a place of knowledge so ancient that even I had not seen its full depths.

And there, among the scrolls of history, I found the truth.

The Pact was not naturally failing.

It was being unwoven from within.

By Velmora’s own High Council.

The letters I found were recent, messages between Velmora’s rulers and an unknown entity from the other side of the Rift.

They were negotiating a deal.

Not for peace.

Not for survival.

But for dominion.

They were planning to reshape the Pact, not to stop the war, but to control both realms as one.

And then I heard the voice behind me.

“I see you’ve been reading things that were never meant for your eyes, Merlin.”

I turned.

And there stood Lord Vaedrin, the king’s most trusted advisor.

He smiled.

“You always do, don’t you?”

Merlin’s Realization

For the first time in a long time…

I saw it clearly.

This was no simple invasion.

No random collapse of a magical barrier.

This was a conspiracy that stretched across centuries.

The fall of Eldoria.
The siege of Alestria.
The forging of the Eldorian Gate.

It had all been part of the same cycle.

And now, it was happening again.

Only this time…

Velmora was not trying to stop it.

They were trying to win it.

The pieces had fallen into place.

For centuries, I had traveled across kingdoms lost to time, witnessed empires crumble, and walked through the ruins of Eldoria, where the remnants of a doomed war of magic still lingered in the very air.

And yet, I had never realized the truth—that all of it had been connected.

The Eldorian Rift, the Siege of Alestria, the forgotten throne of lost kings… they had all been part of a cycle, a grand design that had repeated itself across time, shaping the world while most remained blind to its purpose.

And now… it was happening again.

And Velmora was behind it.

The War That Was Never Meant to End

Lord Vaedrin stood before me, his expression calm, yet his eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a man who believed himself untouchable.

“You always uncover things best left buried, Merlin.”

His voice was smooth, calculated—as if he had been expecting me.

“But this time, I fear you’ve come too late.”

I stepped forward, gripping my staff, the magic humming beneath my fingers. “You’re unraveling the Twin Realms Pact. Why? To what end?”

Vaedrin’s lips curled into a half-smile, as if I had missed the obvious.

“To finish what our ancestors started, of course.”

I studied him carefully. “Your ancestors… or Eldoria’s?”

The question made him pause—just for a moment. And that was all I needed.

This wasn’t just Velmora’s doing.

This was ancient magic at work—the same kind of magic that had once torn Eldoria apart.

Vaedrin exhaled, his fingers grazing the scrolls on the table, his voice lowering.

“You, of all people, should know that history is written by those who refuse to be erased.”

He turned to me, eyes sharp as steel.

“The Pact was never meant to last, Merlin. It was always a temporary solution—a delay, not a victory. The Rift was never truly closed. It was merely waiting.”

I had heard this before—long ago, deep in the ruins of Alestria, where the mountain spirits had whispered of a war that was not yet finished.

And now, Velmora was trying to finish it.

I shook my head. “The Eldorian Gate was sealed for a reason. So was the Pact. The war you are trying to reignite is not just between realms. It is between time itself.”

Vaedrin chuckled, pouring himself a goblet of dark wine.

“Time is nothing but a wheel, Merlin. And we are merely… turning it once more.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“And who are ‘we,’ exactly?”

Vaedrin swirled the wine in his cup before answering.

“The ones who have always been watching.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

I had heard those words before.

Spoken by a man who had once tried to claim the throne of a forgotten kingdom.

A man whose name had been erased from time.

And suddenly, I understood.

This was not just Velmora’s doing.

This was the will of something much older.

Something that had been waiting for the right moment to return.

The Cycle of Ruin

“You are making a mistake, Vaedrin,” I said carefully. “The last time a kingdom sought to control a Rift, it led to Eldoria’s downfall. You know this.”

Vaedrin sipped his wine, unconcerned. “Yes, but Eldoria failed because they tried to contain the Rift. We are not making that mistake.”

I clenched my fist. “Then what is your plan?”

He smirked. “Not to fight it, Merlin. To embrace it.”

The words sent a cold wave through me.

Velmora was not merely breaking the Pact.

They were inviting the Shadow Realm into our world willingly.

They were doing what Eldoria had tried and failed to do—not sealing magic away, but rewriting the very laws that bound it.

“You don’t understand what you’re tampering with,” I warned. “There are things beyond the Rift that should never be set free.”

Vaedrin set down his goblet and turned to face me fully.

“That is where you are wrong, Merlin.” His smile was gone now. “We understand exactly what we are doing.”

I could feel the weight of the past pressing against the present, as if the shadows of Eldoria, Alestria, and the forgotten throne were all watching this moment.

The wheel was turning again.

And I was standing in the middle of it.

The Coming Storm

Vaedrin stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I will give you one chance, old man. Step aside. Let history take its course.”

I met his gaze. “And what happens when the Rift consumes you?”

His smirk returned. “It won’t. Because this time, we are the ones holding the key.”

I exhaled.

I had no more time for words.

The war had already begun.

And Velmora was about to open the Rift permanently.

I turned sharply, staff in hand, and walked out of the archive chambers.

The streets of Velmora were quiet.

But they would not be for long.

Because somewhere beyond the veil of this world, the shadows were stirring.

And if Velmora truly believed they could control the Rift, then they had already lost.

Because I knew something they did not.

The last time someone tried to control the Rift, they never returned.

The war was no longer coming.

It was here.

And I was going to end it—one way or another.

The Gathering Storm

I walked out of the Elder Archives, the weight of history pressing down on me.

The sky above Velmora was too quiet, too still—like a breath before the storm.

The streets remained untroubled, merchants called out their wares, and the banners of the kingdom fluttered in the breeze.

But I knew the truth.

This city was already lost.

Not to war. Not to an invading army.

But to something far worse.

To blind ambition. To men who thought themselves gods.

And as I stepped onto the stone streets, I felt it—the first ripple in the fabric of the world.

Something was about to break.

And when it did, all of history would feel the impact.

The Rift Grows Unstable

I closed my eyes and reached out, letting my magic brush against the edges of the Rift’s presence.

And what I felt terrified me.

The Rift was not fully open yet, but it was no longer dormant either.

It was growing, like a beast stirring in its sleep, sensing that its cage was about to be broken.

This was not like the Eldorian Gate—a contained breach, sealed and bound by those who had feared what lay beyond.

This was something else.

This Rift had been fed, its energies tangled with Velmora’s magic.

Vaedrin and his High Council were not just breaking the Pact.

They were rewriting it.

And once the final spell was cast…

The Rift would never close again.

The First Attack

I was still processing this realization when the first screams echoed through the city.

A ripple of darkness exploded in the sky above the palace, a jagged wound forming between this world and the other.

The people of Velmora looked up in horror.

They had not been told what their leaders had planned.

They had not been warned that their city stood on the edge of annihilation.

And now, it was too late.

From the Rift, they emerged.

Not an army.

Not knights or soldiers.

But figures wrapped in shifting shadows, their bodies flickering between human and something else.

They moved like echoes, slipping in and out of the light, untouched by the laws of this world.

The Obsidian Court had come to Velmora.

And they were not here to negotiate.

Velmora’s Mistake

The royal palace erupted into chaos.

Guards scrambled, swords were drawn, and Velmora’s battle horns sounded—but it was all too late.

Vaedrin had overestimated his control.

He had expected to shape the Rift, to hold power over those who dwelled in the Shadow Realm.

But the moment he opened the gate…

He was no longer the master.

He was the prey.

Velmora had betrayed the Pact.

And now, the Obsidian Court was here to collect the debt.

Merlin Takes Action

I had no time for hesitation.

The magic in my staff flared, a pulse of blue energy spreading outward as I stepped toward the Rift, pushing through the waves of fear rolling off the city.

I had seen this before.

I had stood upon the crumbling battlements of Eldoria, watching as its last defenders fell to magic they could not comprehend.

I had walked through the ashes of Alestria, where an empire had tried and failed to break a city that held secrets even they could not claim.

And now, I stood in Velmora, watching history repeat itself.

No.

Not this time.

Not again.

I raised my staff and spoke the words that had not been uttered in a thousand years.

“I invoke the Pact of the Twin Realms!”

The very air trembled.

For a brief moment, the Rift flickered, as if the ancient law was struggling to reassert itself.

But the spell was weakened—the Pact had been too broken, too twisted by those who had sought to use it for their own gain.

I could not undo what had been done.

But I could still fight.

The Battle for Velmora

The Obsidian Court’s warriors were pouring into the city, their dark blades cutting down knights, sorcerers, and civilians alike.

Velmora’s forces rallied, but they were fighting a war they were never meant to win.

This was not an invasion.

It was a reckoning.

And at the center of it all stood Vaedrin, his once-perfect confidence shattered as he realized the truth.

“This was not the plan!” he shouted, his hands glowing with desperate magic as he tried to close the Rift.

But the Obsidian Court did not care for his plan.

They only cared that Velmora had dared to open the gates.

And now, they would tear this world apart.

The Last Stand

I moved through the battlefield, my staff striking against the ground, unleashing waves of power that sent shadows recoiling back toward the Rift.

But it was not enough.

I was one man, and this was a war between worlds.

And then…

I saw it.

A figure, watching from the other side of the Rift.

A being wrapped in black fire, his eyes like burning stars.

I had seen him before.

In Eldoria.

In Alestria.

He had many names, but I knew what he truly was.

He was not just a king of the Obsidian Court.

He was something older.

Something that had been waiting.

And as our eyes met, I understood.

This was not just a battle.

This was a game that had been played long before I had ever walked this world.

And now… it was my move.

The Riftlord Watches

The battlefield was chaos.

Velmora burned.

The shadows of the Obsidian Court had poured into the city, twisting through the streets like a living nightmare, their warriors cutting through knights and civilians alike.

I stood in the center of it all, my staff glowing with the last remnants of the ancient Pact, barely holding back the darkness that sought to consume everything.

And above it all, watching from the other side of the Rift, stood him.

The being of black fire and burning eyes.

The Riftlord.

He was not merely a king of shadows, not simply a ruler of the Obsidian Court.

He was something older.

Something that had been waiting.

And now, the game had begun again.

Velmora’s Last Stand

The remaining knights of Velmora had formed a final defensive line in the palace courtyard, their backs to the great stone fortress that had stood for centuries.

But it would not stand much longer.

The Rift had already begun to spread, its magic eating away at the foundation of the city.

I reached them just as their last battle began.

Lord Vaedrin, once so arrogant, so confident, stood among them, his hands glowing with desperate magic, trying and failing to contain the breach.

His face was pale.

He had finally realized the truth.

Velmora was not in control.

They had never been.

The moment they had broken the Pact, the moment they had thought to rewrite the rules of the world—they had sealed their own doom.

And now…

They were merely trying to survive.

The Pact’s Final Words

I planted my staff into the cracked stone, letting my magic spread through the city one last time, reaching out for any remaining traces of the Twin Realms Pact.

And I heard its final whisper.

“Too late, Merlin.”

The Pact had been too twisted, too damaged.

It could no longer seal the Rift.

It could no longer contain the war.

It could only warn me of what was coming.

And so, with a heavy heart, I did the only thing left to do.

I turned to Vaedrin.

“Gather your men,” I said. “And run.”

He stared at me, stunned, his lips forming silent words.

“Run?” he finally managed. “But—”

“Velmora is already lost,” I interrupted. “You cannot win this battle. You cannot reclaim the Pact. The Rift has already chosen its victor.”

And we were not it.

The Fall of Velmora

The first shockwave came like a thunderclap, sending a ripple of energy through the streets.

The Rift was growing.

And as it expanded, the city itself began to shatter.

Stone walls crumbled into dust.

The ground split open, revealing depths that had never existed before—a darkness that had been waiting beneath Velmora for a thousand years.

And from within that darkness, the final army of the Obsidian Court rose.

Not just shadows.

Not just warriors of the Rift.

But something worse.

Something that Velmora had buried long ago.

The lost kings of the past, the rulers who had once sought to bind the Twin Realms under one throne, now returned as revenants, their bodies twisted by shadow magic, their minds lost to the will of the Riftlord.

Vaedrin fell to his knees.

“No…” he whispered. “This isn’t… this wasn’t…”

I grabbed him by the shoulder.

“This was always going to happen.”

Velmora’s greatest secret had been buried beneath its own palace, hidden for centuries.

And now, it was free once more.

The Escape from Velmora

The knights who had survived the first wave of destruction had no choice but to flee.

I led them through the collapsing streets, weaving spells of protection and concealment, guiding them through hidden tunnels beneath the city.

But even as we ran, I knew the truth.

This was not the end.

This was only the beginning.

For as I turned back one last time, I saw the Rift fully open, the city of Velmora no longer a part of this world.

It had been claimed by the Shadow Realm.

And the Riftlord had won.

The Game Moves Forward

We emerged into the open plains beyond Velmora, the air thick with smoke and magic, the night sky now permanently scarred by the Rift’s presence.

The knights who had followed me fell to their knees, exhausted, broken, their kingdom gone forever.

And as I stood there, staring into the dark horizon, I felt a presence watching me.

I turned.

And for the first time, the Riftlord stepped through the veil.

He no longer needed to hide behind the Rift.

The war had changed.

He had changed.

“You fought well, Merlin,” he said, his voice like echoes trapped in time.

“But this game is far from over.”

I gripped my staff.

“I never thought it was.”

His eyes burned in the darkness.

“You cannot stop what is coming.”

I exhaled.

“Perhaps not.”

And then, I turned away, walking into the night, leaving the ruins of Velmora behind.

For now.

Merlin’s Final Words

“History is a wheel, forever turning.”

“The Eldorian Rift was sealed, yet another was opened.”

“The Siege of Alestria was won, yet new battles rise.”

“The Forgotten Throne fell, yet new kings rise from the ruins.”

“And now… the Twin Realms Pact is broken, and the Shadow War has begun again.”

“But the wheel does not turn without resistance.”

“And as long as I walk this world, I will push against it.”

“Because some wars are worth fighting.”

“And this one… is far from over.”