Crossing the chain

He had to stay perfectly still. His life depended on it. Tanryn pressed his body against the cold, rusty ground that stretched for miles around him, surrounded in every direction by nothing but the clouds of the purple void. For months he had travelled through this strange landscape, nothing but metal below his feet, connecting his home world of Va’Laeth and the fledgling world of Ashandri. But now, the ravager elf had almost crossed the Chain, thousands of miles behind him and only a few hundred more before him.
He could already see Ashandri in the distance. That place was a beacon of hope, a light that slowly began to infect his own world. He was a Chainwalker, and he could feel it in the very pulse of the Chain. It disgusted him, and it had to be destroyed. He couldn’t achieve it alone, of course. But he could bring back an important piece of the mosaic of destruction. An artifact, kept in a place called The Arcanist Vault. He knew where to find it, and he would get it. He would return home as a hero.
But first, he had to get past the damned halfling. Marisha Veilbreaker, once a simple bard that should have died along with her world, had become the most powerful entity of Ashandri. She was the sole reason this world-island existed. She was the source of hope. His heart was filled with nothing but hatred for her, but he knew he would lose in a direct confrontation. It was unfortunate that he encountered her on one of her patrols on the Chain, but he had always been sneaky.
He had found a small crack in the ground, probably the remnant of a chainquake. The small crevice was no more than ten feet long and two feet wide, but it was all he needed to hide himself. A layer of rust covered his cloak, gathered over the months of his journey. Now this simple garment offered the perfect concealment while he pressed his ear on the ground, listening to the vibrations of her steps. Fourty yards, still walking away from him. He waited another minute or so, then cautiously got up and out of the jagged hole. She still had her back turned on him, unaware of his presence. He turned towards Ashandri, visible just beyond the next chain-link. Not long, and he would…
Something appeared at the corner of his eye. His eyes darted around, but he couldn’t see anything. He also couldn’t feel anything, no vibrations of life. And yet, there was something here. “Who are you?” he heard a whisper. “What are you doing here?” The voices came out of nowhere. Suddenly, he felt a touch on his leg, and it… burned. But not like fire. It felt like his very skin was dissolving. He hissed angrily. “Go away, whatever you are!”
Another disembodied voice appeared. “A living one! Have you come to feed us?” There were more voices, more whispers somewhere behind him. “Is he lost? Is he one of us? Will he be?” Tanryn knew these were not just the annoying spirits of the dead. There were many of those in the void, but they couldn't exist on the Chain. And they couldn’t burn you. This was a real danger. He unsheathed his rapier, a weapon imbued with the power of The Perishing themselves. “Leave, or I will end your miserable existence, spirits!”
More voices appeared. “He is threatening us. He is strong. He will join us!” Tanryn started to run. His steps were silent, only the fluttering of his rust-covered cloak could be heard. And the voices, following him, hunting him. The end of this chain-link was in sight. Just one more left. One more before reaching Ashandri. Suddenly, something burst out of the Chain. It didn’t whisper - it roared. Loudly. The beast was fifty feet large, an enormous spirit creature glowing in the purple color of the void. The behemoth looked like a mixture between a mammoth and a horned lizard, the entire translucent body adorned with spikes. Its massive claws slashed at him. Tanryn jumped forward, narrowly evading the strike. Another jump, then a quick strike at one of the massive legs. The creature screamed as purple mist spilled from the wound like blood. He would win this. He…
A sudden flash of light at his side blinded him for a second. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out a silhouette… a small figure. Then he saw her. The halfling bard, Marisha Veilbreaker.
“Hello my dear. I believe you are a little lost?”