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Page 4177

It was the strangest thing--which was saying a lot, considering the amount of strangeness that Lozaro had witnessed in his life.

And it had taken a while for Lozaro to understand what truly had happened, as well, because technically, the Red Rift still existed in its previous form, too. It had shrunken itself down from its very earliest days, yes, but it was still a protrusion of pitch dark rocks on a wide pedestal. Simple and unassuming enough to the eye, like a scale model of a grand valley. Something out of a movie set, perhaps.

Until it came alight with its swirling, crimson energies.

The vortex in the center of that little valley was like looking into the captured eye of a hurricane. And through it, all manner of knowledge and imagery could be glimpsed.

But the Rift didn't do that anymore. Not on its own, anyway. It had gone dormant, and for a quite some time, Lozaro had thought it simply dead.

Until, that was, Jercash had entered its proximity, and suddenly the Forge surged back to life with more vigor than Lozaro had ever witnessed it before.

At first, he'd thought that the Rift was simply being temperamental with him. Moody and obnoxious. But the more he dove into the deeper recesses of its woven ardor, the more apparent the truth become, regardless of how much he hadn't wanted to believe it.

The ardor of the Rift was simply not there, anymore.

It wasn't weakened or leaking or anything of the sort.

But it hadn't just migrated into Jercash's body, either. Even now, Lozaro still did not know where exactly the Rift's ardor resided. All he knew for sure was that it only returned to the Rift's old body when Jercash was present.

Which had further made Lozaro wonder if Jercash had become some kind of catalyst or key. Not actually the Rift himself, surely. Just the mechanism to unlock its power.

But no. That theory had dwindled into nothingness, as well, because he'd begun to notice the Rift becoming affected by Jercash's mood. And even by his expressed desires, too.

Things had not yet progressed to the point of Jercash simply commanding the Rift outright, wielding its creative power as his very own, but that might have only been because the man hadn't tried.

And Lozaro was terrified of what would happen if he did.

Page 4176

But he hadn't much cared for organics, either, despite diving into various fields for that, as well.

No, his passion truly lay in physics. In the fundamental laws. And the realms beyond. How they might bend. And more importantly, how they might be bent.

That was the birthing principle behind the Red Rift, after all: to create a Forge that could not just reach out and touch those realms, but also allow him to do so, personally.

Unfortunately, the Red Rift had fulfilled that role far more effectively than Lozaro had ever imagined. And it had undergone so many changes of its own. First by devouring ravenously. Then by BEING devoured itself. Then by subsuming its devourer. And then transforming into an altogether unrecognizable entity.

Calling the Forge a problem, at this point, didn't even begin to describe it, anymore. Lozaro didn't know if the Rift could have ever truly been considered a child of his own creation, but these days, that notion was especially far from the truth.

In the beginning, it was obviously Hamish's brainchild and labor of love, but after he went completely mad, Lozaro decided to bring his work to fruition. So then who was its creator truly? For the longest time, Lozaro had boldly claimed that it was his own, but the fact that he had yet to create a second Forge, despite many earnest attempts, did not bode well for his credibility.

And perhaps the Rift had begun to sense that uncertainty in him--and resented him for it, too. He'd read the historical accounts of breakdowns between Forges and their creators, but he'd never expected to be as pitifully simple as a lack of confidence.

Simple to begin with, at least. Not so much anymore.

Not when the Forge was walking around in human form, talking to people in plain sight.

Giving them orders, too.

Lozaro eyed Jercash from afar, as he had often done in recent years, wondering again just how much the Devil's Knife understood about his own nature.

With that man, it was almost impossible to be sure of anything, but as far as Lozaro had been able to tell, Jercash seemed unaware. Which was a maddening thing, quite frankly, in so many different ways.

That much power. Locked away in the mind and body of a human being. Dormant, perhaps. Or just manifesting in ways unseen.