I wasn't born with enough middle fingers

He left the Portal of shadows behind.   He had no desire to be anywhere near a portal ever again.  Somehow, he was home, and he had no intention of a the sameportal sweeping him away again to gods knows where and dumping him there to rot.  He left behind the newly stranded Helovians, who staggered from the Portals grip through the mist, terror and hysteria clouding their vision and their judgement, not knowing where they were or who to trust.  He could relate.   The Rift had changed little in his absence.  It remained dark and twisted and more unpredictable than ever.  Rift creatures had been following him ever since he had emerged from the portal, prowling in the shadows with unblinking, hungry eyes.  But there was something new…a presence, dark and tainted with gleeful malevolence.  Raistlyn could not see it, this strange force that had greeted him as he stumbled through the portal and into the sea of white mist. The earth had shuddered beneath his unsteady legs, wind clawing through his silver hair, leaving him breathless and his head pounding.  Shadows had emerged, snaking towards him, pulsing as they billowed from nothingness. And a voice.  It had pried open his mind with relentless claws, bring him into his knees, blackness enveloping everything.  He could not see, he could not move.  He could only listen to the voice in his head.  Welcome home, traitor, it had said.  Make your move. And then it vanished, and the shadows retreated to their normal shapes beneath the forest trees.  The screaming wind fell to a mere, crooning whisper and the pounding in his ears receded, leaving him alone and weak. Whatever that thing was, he had felt nothing like it in his lifetime, and he did not wait around for the dark presence to invade his mind again.  With his silver pup dangling from his mouth, he had set off through the mist, determined to discover what had happened to his friends in the aftermath of the first portal that had rendered the Rift asunder. --- The Temple on the cliffs of the Rainforest.  That was his destination.  If she still lived, that’s where she would be.  He did not relish the thought of entering the Rainforest, as it was a haunting place with spectral wraiths and water hags, but he had frequented it enough in his past to know the better paths.   — And that was how he ended up here, in the depths of the forest, traveling at a swift pace through the shadows.  He had formed a makeshift sling around his neck from vines and massive leaves to carry the tiny pup.  She did not cry or make a single peep during the journey.   The Helovians were scattered now, some had ventured deeper into the Rift.  He did not know if that was wise, but what else were they to do?  Sit at the portal and pray to their dead gods to take them home again? What would this mean for the natives of the Rift?  The Helovians would not survive here for long, not without aid, and he wasn't so sure his people would be willing to give it.  The monsters of the Rift were too many, and after he had discovered the new reigning presence of the Rift, that was now the least of their problems. For once in his life, Raistlyn was unsure of his Path and where it intended to take him. The time was more difficult to determine here than in Helovia, where the sun and stars maintained a regular rhythm, as sure as a strong heartbeat.  The stars rotated beautifully, there.  Here in the Rift, there seemed to be only an oppressive blackness and an endless night without stars.  It would take him a while to adapt once more. Blinking in the dim light, his feline pupils dilated and adjusted, allowing him to see near perfectly in the blackness.  He could hear something ahead.  He braced himself, drawing forth the shadows surrounding him to wrap and warp into black armor on his body.  If a monster had decided to ambush him, he would be ready.   Something crashed through the thick, tangled undergrowth of the old forest, snarling and yowling.  He whirled, bracing himself for an impact that never came.  Moments later, the creature’s cries faded and silence settled over the forest once more.  Something had spooked the Rift creature.   He did not release the shadows bound to his body, knowing the deeper he went into the forest, the more creatures would follow him, waiting for an easy dinner.  They would not find one in him. He heard voices next, just ahead.  Raistlyn found them a few minutes later, a pale, winged mare the color of a sea opal and a dark horned male with burnished gold markings. He assumed Helovians.  Something about the male seemed oddly familiar.  He dismissed the idle thought, and curled his lip at the stench staining the area; the male reeked of piss and looked winded. What had happened? The female, obviously concerned, seemed just as dazed.  A small, impish looking deer lingered apprehensively behind the horned stallion.  No one appeared wounded, but he knew the Rift was capable of causing more than physical wounds. “It is not wise to linger, Helovians.” Raistlyn did not approach any closer, remaining wary.  Shadows still swirled over his striped skin, maintaining his black armor.  How would they feel about a native Riftian?  Perhaps he should have left them to their own fate. Another time, Raistlyn would have done just that. The Temple could not be far and he wished to be on his way, but he found he could not leave them, not without giving them a little parting advice that might ensure their survival a little while longer.  He eyed them closely.  "You should keep moving. That will not be the last of them,” he warned, motioning with a toss of his head in the direction the monster had fled.  His feline indigo gaze settled on the male unicorn, unable to discern why he felt the stallion’s dark face was so familiar.   I know you, he thought to himself, but from where? --- R A I S T L Y N --- of the rift