“Long ago,” Houlun continued, “before the khaganate, before the horse-lords on the steppes and the Torre by the sea, before any mortal ruled these lands … A rip appeared in the world. In these very mountains.” Sartaq’s face was unreadable as his hearth-mother spoke, but Nesryn swallowed. A rip in the world—an open Wyrdgate. Here. “It opened and closed swiftly, no more than a flash of lightning.” As if in answer, veins of forked lightning lit the sky beyond. “But that was all that was needed. For the horrors to enter. The kharankui, and other beasts of shadow.”
Like the rifts in Crescent City?
