Chapter 2: Between Worlds

I existed in nothing.

My eyes refused to focus on anything solid. I tried to move, testing whether my body still responded to commands. My arm drifted upward—or what I thought was upward. Direction had stopped meaning anything in this place. I rotated slowly, watching my hand pass through space that didn't quite behave correctly.

Debris floated past me. A chunk of white stone drifted by my face, close enough that I could see the grain pattern. Demacian marble. I recognized the specific type we used in the Great Hall's pillars. The stone tumbled through the void following a path that bent at impossible angles, moving in three directions simultaneously.

I turned my head and watched more fragments pass. Crystalline structures I'd never seen before spun lazily through the translucent space around me. They caught light from sources that didn't exist, throwing prismatic reflections across the void. One piece moved close enough for me to study—a shard of something that looked carved rather than broken, covered in symbols that hurt to read.

Testing my movement again, I pushed against the void itself. Nothing solid met my hand, but something resisted. I pressed harder and began rotating, my whole body turning in a slow spiral. The motion brought new perspectives into view, and I realized I'd been looking at only half of what surrounded me.

The borderlands valley appeared behind me through a translucent barrier. I could see through the void to the reality I'd left, watching the scene as if looking through murky water. The mage-seekers stood at the edge of the rift, now clearly visible despite the distance that had separated us moments ago. This close, I recognized one of them—Marcus, who'd trained with the Dauntless Vanguard three years back before transferring to the mage-seeker order.

They moved carefully, approaching the tear I'd created. Marcus carried equipment I recognized—petricite rods designed to channel and contain magical energy. The other two spread out, creating a triangle formation around the rift's edge. They worked with practiced coordination, setting up whatever ritual they meant to perform.

I tried to shout. My mouth opened and I pushed air through my lungs, forming words that should have carried across the distance. No sound emerged. The void swallowed everything, giving me nothing except the sight of my breath condensing in air that shouldn't exist.

The rift tore wider. I watched purple energy spread along its edges, expanding the tear with each pulse. The opening I'd dove through had been perhaps forty feet tall. Now it stretched to sixty, then seventy, growing as I observed. Tendrils of purple light began leaking from the boundary, reaching into the borderlands valley with visible hunger.

I continued rotating, bringing more of the void into view. The perspective shifted as I turned, revealing what existed on the other side of the rift. An alien landscape spread before me, visible through the same translucent barrier that showed Demacia. Carved megaliths rose from barren ground, each one covered in script that glowed faintly. The structures formed patterns I couldn't interpret—geometric arrangements that suggested purpose without revealing meaning.

Four figures stood examining the tear from this other reality. They wore elaborate armor that radiated magical energy so intense I could see it even through the void's distortion. Each one carried weapons that hummed with power, and their movements showed the same coordinated investigation tactics I'd learned in military training.

One of them gestured toward the rift. The others responded immediately, taking positions that mirrored what the mage-seekers were doing on the Demacian side. They prepared to seal the breach from their world, working in synchronization with enemies they couldn't see.

I rotated further, watching both realities overlap in the void. The translucent barrier between worlds let me observe everything simultaneously—Demacia on one side, this other realm on the other, and the rift tearing through both. The purple tendrils grew longer, reaching into each reality with increasing aggression.

One tendril touched a rock formation in the borderlands. I watched the stone begin to change. The solid matter warped, twisting into angles that shouldn't exist in physical space. The transformation spread from the contact point, corrupting everything the energy touched. Within seconds, the rock had become something that hurt to observe, existing in multiple states at once.

On the other side, similar corruption spread through the alien landscape. A megalith crumbled where purple energy touched it, then reformed as something new. The carved symbols on its surface writhed and changed, rewriting themselves into patterns that made my eyes water.

I tried shouting again, attempting to warn both groups about what I'd seen. My voice produced nothing. The void remained silent, leaving me trapped in observation without influence. I could only watch as both sides prepared their sealing rituals, unaware of how the corruption had already begun spreading.

Marcus raised his petricite rod on the Demacian side. The gesture looked familiar—the beginning stance for a containment spell I'd seen performed during mage-seeker demonstrations. He drove the rod toward the rift's edge, channeling his training into stabilizing the boundary.

At the same moment, one of the armored figures on the other side cast a spell. I watched magical energy gather around the figure's hands, forming a construct that blazed with colors I couldn't name. The spell flew toward the rift, aimed at the exact point where Marcus struck with his petricite rod.

The two forces met at the barrier between worlds.

Reality shuddered.

The impact created a resonance that spread through the void around me. I tumbled sideways—or what passed for sideways in this directionless space—as the entire liminal dimension shook from the collision. The translucent barriers rippled, distorting the view of both realities into fragmented images.

A spike of distorted reality pierced the void fifteen feet from where I floated. The spike looked solid, more real than anything else in this translucent space. It pulsed with energy from both Demacia's petricite and the other world's magic, the two forces locked in unstable combination.

I pushed against the void, trying to move away from the spike. My body rotated slowly, bringing me around to face the new direction. Purple energy leaked from the spike's surface, spreading corruption into the void itself. The translucent space around it began breaking down, fragmenting into pieces that showed different moments in time.

Someone appeared in the void.

He didn't arrive through movement or travel. One moment the space fifteen feet from me contained nothing. The next moment, he existed there, as if he'd always been present and I'd simply failed to notice until now.

He looked more solid than everything else. While I appeared translucent in this space, and the debris floated with uncertain consistency, this figure possessed complete physical presence. Three spheres orbited around him—one glowing blue, another yellow, the third red. They moved in perfect circles, providing the only stable light source in the entire void.

The figure studied me. He appeared human in basic form, but something about him suggested far greater age and power than any human should possess. He wore robes covered in symbols that shifted as I watched, rearranging themselves into new configurations.

"You possess remarkable talent for destruction." He spoke, and I heard him clearly despite the void's silence. "Four days in exile, and you've managed to tear reality apart."

I tried responding. My voice still produced no sound, swallowed by the void the moment it left my throat.

The figure raised one hand in a dismissive gesture. "Save your breath. Only those who understand this space can speak within it. You're simply trapped here, suspended between worlds you've nearly destroyed."

He moved closer, though I saw no sign of actual movement. He simply existed nearer than before, floating at eye level across the void. The three spheres continued their perfect rotation, never wavering despite the shifting of their anchor.

"Invoker," he said, apparently deciding introduction was necessary. "Though the name means nothing to you. Why would it? You're from a reality where I don't exist, brought here by catastrophic misunderstanding of dimensional physics."

He gestured, and the void around us changed. The translucent barriers became clearer, letting me see both realities with perfect clarity. I watched the mage-seekers working their ritual on one side while the armored figures performed their own sealing on the other. The purple corruption continued spreading from the rift's edges, touching more matter in both worlds.

"Observe what you've accomplished." Invoker pointed toward the spreading corruption. "Your anti-magic physiology rejected the rift's energy structure when you passed through. Most beings simply traverse dimensional tears, their bodies adapting to the transition. But you—you're specifically designed to resist and nullify magical forces."

I watched Demacian architecture warp where the purple tendrils touched it. Buildings I'd defended during the Noxian wars twisted into impossible shapes, their white stone becoming something that existed in multiple dimensions at once. In the other reality, entire sections of landscape crumbled and reformed, the ground itself unable to maintain stable existence near the corruption.

"The rift read your passage as an attack rather than a transition. It destabilized catastrophically, tearing wider with each moment. Now both realities leak into each other, and the corruption spreads faster than either side can contain it."

Invoker moved again, bringing himself closer without crossing the intervening space. He manipulated the void's view, showing me perspectives I couldn't have seen on my own. I watched the corruption spreading toward Demacian settlements, moving along the paths that magical energy had carved into the borderlands. On the other side, I saw villages built among the megaliths, filled with people who would face the same destruction.

"Calculate the progression." Invoker's voice carried no emotion, presenting facts without judgment. "The corruption spreads at a consistent rate in both directions. Demacia's mage-seekers can slow it, perhaps buying themselves hours. The Dota forces possess greater magical knowledge—they might manage a few days. Neither side can stop it."

He pulled back the view, showing me a wider perspective. I watched reality itself beginning to merge at the rift's edges. Demacian stone started appearing in the other world's landscape. Carved megaliths manifested in the borderlands valley. The two universes began bleeding together, creating hybrid space that couldn't sustain either reality's natural laws.

"Within hours, the barrier collapses completely. Both worlds fragment and merge into uninhabitable hybrid reality. Everything you've known—everyone—converted into impossible matter that exists in no stable state."

Invoker gestured again. The void shifted, bringing two images into focus beside him. Both appeared as clear projections, floating in the translucent space where I could study them.

The first projection showed me suspended in this void, similar to my current position. But in the vision, energy poured from my body—not magical energy, but its opposite. The anti-magic properties that Demacia had trained into me through years of petricite exposure flowed outward, channeled through some force I didn't understand. The energy struck the rift's edges, collapsing the tear from within. I watched the corruption retreat, the purple tendrils withdrawing as the dimensional breach sealed itself.

But the vision showed more. As the rift collapsed, I fell. Not into Demacia or into the other reality—I plummeted through the void into the alien world with the carved megaliths. The rift sealed behind me, trapping me permanently in a universe that wasn't mine.

"Option one," Invoker explained. "You channel your anti-magic properties through my spell matrix. The forces that make you resistant to magic become the tool that collapses the rift. Reality stabilizes. Both worlds survive."

He paused, letting me process the image.

"You remain trapped in the Dota universe permanently. No return. No second chances. The seal, once completed, cannot be broken without tearing reality apart again."

The second projection appeared beside the first. This one showed both worlds fragmenting. I watched Demacia's white walls crack and reform into twisted versions of themselves. The other reality's megaliths shattered and rebuilt as hybrid structures that couldn't exist in stable space. People from both worlds screamed as their bodies converted into impossible matter, trapped in forms that existed in multiple states simultaneously.

The corruption spread across entire continents in the vision. Cities I'd defended during my service collapsed into chaos. Forests I'd marched through as a soldier transformed into alien landscapes where natural laws had stopped functioning. The vision showed me Lux standing in the Crownguard estate's courtyard, watching the corruption spread toward her position with no way to escape.

"Option two," Invoker said. "Both realities merge and collapse. Billions die. Everything ends."

He let both projections hover in the void, giving me time to study them. The first showed my sacrifice and exile. The second showed total annihilation. No third option appeared. No clever solution that saved everyone and returned me home.

I reached for the wooden family symbol in my pocket. My hand moved through the translucent void, finding the small carved piece Lux had given me before my exile. I pulled it free and held it up, studying the simple craftsmanship in the void's unstable light.

Lux had asked me to survive. She'd believed I was honest rather than traitorous, human rather than corrupted by Noxian influence. The symbol represented everything I'd lost when Demacia cast me out—family, honor, home.

But holding it now, I realized it represented something else. Lux had given me permission to live beyond Demacia's borders, to find meaning in a world that didn't know my name. She'd released me from obligation to return or redeem myself in Demacian eyes.

I released the symbol. It floated away from me, drifting through the translucent void on currents that didn't exist. I watched it tumble through space, moving in the same impossible trajectories as the debris from both realities.

Invoker waited, saying nothing. The three spheres continued their rotation around him, providing stable light in the chaos.

I turned toward him and extended my hand. No words emerged from my throat—the void still swallowed any sound I tried to make. But the gesture communicated what speech couldn't. Agreement. Acceptance. Whatever ritual he proposed, I would participate.

Invoker reached forward and grasped my hand. The moment our skin made contact, energy erupted from the rift's center.

The void exploded into chaos around me. My anti-magic properties activated, channeled through whatever spell matrix Invoker had prepared. I watched the energy pour from my body, not magical but its opposite—a force that nullified and collapsed magical structures rather than creating them.

The channeling felt wrong. My entire being rejected the process, every cell trained by years of petricite exposure fighting against the violation of using my anti-magic nature as a tool. Pain lanced through me, starting at the point where Invoker's hand gripped mine and spreading outward through my entire body.

I experienced being torn apart. My physical form destabilized, breaking down into component pieces that scattered through the void. I watched my own arm fragment into translucent sections, each piece existing separately while somehow remaining connected to the whole.

Reality solidified around me, then fractured again. The void collapsed, reformed, collapsed again in rapid cycles. I tumbled through space that kept changing its fundamental nature, unable to orient myself or understand what direction I moved.

The rift behind me—or ahead of me, or beside me, direction had stopped meaning anything—began contracting. I saw the tear shrinking, pulling back from both realities as my channeled anti-magic forced it closed. Purple corruption retreated from the edges, withdrawing into the collapsing breach.

Then I fell.

Gravity seized me suddenly, replacing the void's directionless suspension with violent downward acceleration. I plummeted through fragmenting reality, watching pieces of the void flash past as I dropped. The translucent barriers between worlds shattered around me, their broken sections showing glimpses of both realities spinning past.

Ground rushed toward me—solid physical ground that existed in stable space. I crashed into it hard, my body slamming against obsidian stone with force that drove the air from my lungs. I rolled twice, unable to control my momentum, before colliding with something solid that stopped my movement.

I lay still, trying to process sensation that made sense again. Pain radiated from my back where I'd struck the ground. My ribs ached from the impact. My vision swam, showing me doubled images of whatever I'd crashed near.

I blinked several times, forcing my eyes to focus. Slowly the doubled images merged into single vision. I'd landed in some kind of courtyard surrounded by obsidian structures that rose into a sky the wrong color. Crimson banners hung from the buildings, displaying symbols I didn't recognize.

I pushed myself to sitting position, then immediately froze.

Armored figures encircled me. I counted eight of them, spread in a loose formation that covered every direction I might run. Each one carried weapons drawn and ready, and I saw magical energy radiating from both armor and arms. They stood in positions that spoke of military training, maintaining enough distance to avoid friendly fire while closing off any escape routes.

One of them stepped forward, bringing a spear point to within inches of my throat.