The sky cracked like glass above the mountain.Elizabeth stood at the edge of the cliff, wind whipping her hair around her face as lightning forked through the storm clouds overhead. Below her, the forest shimmered—half cloaked in mist, half in flame. Time stuttered here, caught between one heartbeat and the next, and she could feel it pressing against her skin like static.
She took a breath. The air tasted like burnt cedar and starlight."I hate this part," she muttered, then stepped off the cliff.The world shattered.When she landed, it was in another realm—this one golden and silent, the sky smeared with twin suns, and gravity tugging at her like it knew her name. Her boots crunched against sand that glowed faintly beneath her feet. It took a second for her to straighten; the pressure here was heavier, and so was the cost.
A thin line of blood slid from her nose.
"Great," Elizabeth sighed, wiping it away with the back of her hand. "Calling on celestial balance always takes too much. Should've stuck to shadowstepping."But shadowstepping wouldn't have gotten her here.
She wasn't like the others—not completely divine, not entirely mortal. Born from a goddess of transitions and a wandering soul who once cheated death, Elizabeth existed between everything: light and dark, time and stasis, faith and fury. And that meant she could go where no one else could.She just had to be willing to pay for it.
Each power came with a price. Channeling fire could burn out her vision. Borrowing wind could age her bones. Even her healing came at a cost—memories, sometimes. Ones she wasn't sure she could afford to lose.Still, none of that mattered now.Because something was wrong. The barriers between worlds were thinning. Realms were bleeding into each other. And someone—something—was pulling the strings.
Elizabeth looked toward the horizon. A temple rose from the sand, impossibly tall, humming with divine energy.She adjusted the straps on her worn pack, cracked her knuckles, and whispered to herself, "Let's see what kind of god tries to play puppetmaster."
Then she walked into the light.
The temple was vast—more like a skeleton of a god left to bake in the twin suns. Its walls shimmered with symbols older than memory, and the air thrummed with the weight of ancient promises.Elizabeth was halfway through deciphering a shifting glyph when a sudden, sharp whistle echoed behind her.
"Would it kill you to wait five minutes before leaping through another damn portal?" She turned, and a smile tugged at her lips. "You're late, Matt."
Matthew Carter stood at the threshold, a tall figure in worn leathers, bow slung over one shoulder, twin blades at his hips. Dust clung to his dark hair and smudged his cheek, but his green eyes were sharp as ever—annoyed, yes, but also worried. He always worried.
"You left without telling me again," he said, stepping closer. "That celestial jump nearly fried your nervous system last time."
"I had to," Elizabeth said simply. "The rift opened while you were still tracking that blood wyrm in the lowlands. I couldn't wait."
He stopped a few feet away from her, folding his arms. "You always say that. But you forget, not all of us are divine powerhouses with infinite cheat codes. Some of us have to sleep. And eat. And train."Elizabeth laughed under her breath, the tension in her chest easing slightly. "I didn't forget. I just knew you'd catch up."Matt grumbled something under his breath—probably not polite—but his eyes softened. "Still not used to all this," he admitted, gaze flicking to the glowing glyphs. "One minute we're running through the forest as kids, chasing frogs and building tree forts. The next, you're splitting reality like it's made of paper."
"It's not that easy," she said with a crooked smile. "You remember what happened the first time I tried to time-step." "You threw up for two days. And we ended up trapped in a pocket realm where squirrels had antlers."
"Exactly. Progress."
He snorted. "You're insane."
"And you still follow me."
"Yeah, well…" Matt reached out and lightly punched her shoulder. "Someone has to keep your head from floating off with all that god-blood arrogance."
They stood in silence for a moment, surrounded by ancient stone and swirling magic. The familiarity between them ran deep—deeper than blood, Elizabeth often thought. Matt had no divine spark, no latent powers. But he never once flinched when her eyes went golden or when a ripple of power tore through the air around her. He didn't need to be a god to be her equal. He chose to stay. To fight. That meant everything. "So," he said, loosening his blades from their sheathes, "what's the plan, oh radiant daughter of cosmic chaos?"
Elizabeth turned toward the temple's inner gate. "We find out what's behind that door."
"And?"
She smirked. "And we kick its ass if it doesn't like us asking questions."
Matt grinned. "Now that's the Elizabeth I know."