The Hollowed Wastes stretched before them like a scar carved into the world. Cracked earth, blackened trees, and the ghostly remains of once-thriving settlements blanketed the land. A place where magic had rotted, where the Veil had bled through too deeply, leaving nothing but echoes and ash.
Aelria stood at the edge of the desolation, her cloak fluttering behind her. Beside her, Kalien and Riven surveyed the horizon, while Nyros circled above in his avian form, scanning for signs of movement. The stench of decay and silence pressed in on all sides, heavy and wrong.
"This was once a city of scholars," Aelria murmured, brushing her fingers across a weathered stone column inscribed with ancient runes. "Veilbinders who tried to control what couldn't be contained."
"And now it's a grave," Kalien said, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his blade. "Whatever's out here—it's drawn to places like this. The last shard could be hidden among the ruins."
As they moved deeper into the Wastes, the air grew colder, more unstable. Shimmering figures flickered at the edge of their vision—fragments of souls, lost within the Veil's corruption. Aelria could feel the pull. The last shard was close, humming faintly in her blood.
But it wasn't alone.
They found the camp hidden between the collapsed spires of an old tower. Cloaked figures knelt in a circle, their hands raised toward a dark floating orb pulsing with Veil energy. And at the center stood a familiar figure in a silver half-mask—The Mirror King.
"He's already begun the ritual," Riven hissed. "He's going to fuse the last shard into himself."
"No," Aelria whispered. "He's going to awaken the Veil entirely. This… this is the beginning of the end."
Before anyone could move, a sudden sharp crack echoed through the air as Nyros dive-bombed the ritual circle, disrupting the energy with a gust of wings. Chaos erupted.
Kalien and Riven surged forward, blades drawn, while Aelria sprinted toward the shard. Her fingers closed around it just as the Mirror King turned, his gaze locking onto hers through the mask.
"You always chase light," he said, voice calm amidst the fury. "But you were born from shadow, Aelria."
She didn't hesitate. "Then I'll use both to stop you."
Magic flared, and the shard burned in her palm—accepting her, fusing with her soul. Light exploded outward, knocking the Mirror King back. He staggered, mask cracking slightly down the center, revealing a flicker of the man he once was.
Pain. Longing. Recognition.
"You still don't understand," he said, vanishing into smoke as his followers scattered. "You think this ends with me. But it began with you."
When the light died down, the shard was gone—absorbed into Aelria completely. She fell to her knees, gasping, her veins glowing faintly with silver.
Kalien caught her just in time. "You've got it?"
"Yes," she breathed. "All of them."
Riven stepped beside them, eyes narrowing. "Then what now?"
Aelria looked to the sky, where storm clouds gathered unnaturally fast, churning with Veil magic.
"Now the Veil comes for me."