Witch of Envy: Riftwalker

Elaria sat at the edge of Maris's bunker, knees drawn to her chest, eyes locked on a dying relic in her hand — a crystal shard etched with ancient runes. In her time, it would've sung with power. Now, it was no more than glass.

She ran a thumb across the rune for focus and tried again.

Silence.

Not even a shimmer.

It had been days since she arrived in Neo-Lumina, and the reality had settled in like a wound that wouldn't close: magic was gone. Not sealed, not hidden — absent. As if the very flow that stitched reality had been erased.

Maris entered the room, arms full of scavenged tech. "You're still trying?"

"I'm not trying," Elaria said quietly. "I'm searching."

Maris dumped the gear onto her workbench and peeled off her gloves. "I've watched you trace the same glyphs into the air every night. Whatever 'aether' was supposed to be — it's dead. And you're killing yourself pretending otherwise."

Elaria didn't respond. She simply placed the shard back into a leather pouch alongside others she had retrieved. Even if they were inert, they were part of her past — and maybe, part of a path back.

That evening, they ventured to a nearby junk market — a chaotic maze of old tech, illegal mods, and scavenged parts. Maris moved easily through the crowd. Elaria trailed behind in her hood, clutching her compass.

Bright holo-ads lit the sky with color. One caught Elaria's eye:

"Power dying? Runic drives obsolete? Get the NovaCore Quantum Pack™ and sync your existence to the Clockwork Grid. Modern magic? We call it science."

She frowned. "That's… wrong."

Maris glanced at it. "They call everything magic if it looks flashy. It's just branding. No real spells."

Then, without warning, Elaria froze.

Across the plaza, she saw a vendor with a stall full of crystal cores — some cracked, some glowing faintly. But one… one hummed. A low vibration only she could feel.

She crossed the space swiftly, eyes fixed.

"That piece," she said, pointing to a blackened gem half the size of her palm. "Where did you get it?"

The vendor shrugged. "Scrapper pulled it from a pre-collapse wreck near the rust fields. Why, are you buying?"

Elaria lifted it.

The rune of flux etched along its curve was still intact. She pressed her thumb to it… and for the first time since arriving, she felt a pulse.

Weak. But real.

A spark.

Back in the bunker, she wasted no time.

Using wires from broken consoles and a cracked fusion plate, she embedded the shard into a conductive array Maris built. Then, drawing the old glyphs into the air, she whispered an incantation.

Nothing.

Again.

Still nothing.

She closed her eyes, steadying her breath.

This wasn't her world. She couldn't cast like she used to. But the laws of magic were always about balance, focus, and flow. If the world had changed…

She would have to change with it.

So she reached again—not for the aether—but for the pulse of energy in the tech. The vibrations. The hum of quantum circuits and thermal resonance. She didn't cast a spell…

She synchronized with the system.

And the crystal responded.

The array flared green.

A symbol of Envy's school lit up — the first spark of magic fused with modern energy.

Elaria collapsed, dizzy, but smiling.

"It worked," she whispered.

Maris stared. "You… just cast a spell. With a battery."

"No," Elaria corrected. "I rewrote the path."

Later that night, as Elaria etched the fusion diagram into her notebook, Maris spoke softly.

"Maybe there's a way for your kind of power to survive here."

"There is," Elaria said. "But I'll need more than relics and junk."

Her fingers traced the edge of her time compass.

"I'll need to fuse magic and machine. And I'll need to do it fast."

Because even now, she could feel eyes on her again.

The Chrome Fangs wouldn't stop. Not after that broadcast intercept. And if ChronaTech caught wind of what she had just done...

They'd realize the truth.

Magic wasn't dead.It was just waiting to be reborn.