The Descent
The passage beneath Skarth Hall wound down like a throat carved through ice and time. No torch could burn in the cold. No flame dared exist. The light came instead from the walls—lines of frozen veins, glowing faintly like breath held too long.
Eleanor walked first, silent. Ashryn trailed her, hand on her blade. The Lastblood Prince walked behind them, his boots silent on frost, his gaze never leaving Eleanor's back.
"This place," Ashryn whispered, "smells like the dead."
"It is the dead," the Prince replied. "Thousands entombed in silence. Followers of the Queen's first faith. The Fourth Vein was buried here, to freeze her memory."
"And yet," Eleanor said softly, "she's not forgotten."
The Vault's Mouth
The tunnel widened into a circular chamber—the Vault's threshold. Above, the ceiling rose into darkness, lined with statues of faceless monks. Beneath their feet, the floor was made of mirrored ice, reflecting the three travelers.
Except—
Eleanor's reflection blinked a second too late.
Ashryn noticed. Her hand twitched toward her sword.
The Prince knelt beside a shallow bowl carved from dragonbone. He pricked his finger and let his blood drip.
The door of the Vault—a slab of ancient obsidian—opened with a groan that echoed like a scream without lungs.
Inside the Rift-Buried Vault
The Vault stank of forgotten breath. Each step echoed for miles. The ice here was black—obsidian laced with red veins, pulsing faintly.
Carvings covered the walls. Ashryn paused beside one.
It showed a woman standing in fire, her hair flowing like smoke, her hands held out to a crowd of worshippers. Behind her, five Veins curved like thorns.
Ashryn whispered, "That's you."
Eleanor stared. "No. It's her."
She moved forward.
And the Fourth Vein spoke.
The Voice of the Vein
"You come not to break, but to become."
The voice wasn't loud. It was felt—in bone, in blood, in the cold behind her eyes.
Eleanor staggered slightly.
The walls shifted. Shadows slid. Her own shadow pulled free for a moment, walking ahead of her, slower than her step.
Ashryn gasped. "Eleanor…"
Eleanor turned, but her eyes glowed faintly silver now.
"I hear them all," she said. "The broken ones. The silent ones. The ones waiting."
Memory Fracture
Suddenly—flashes:
A throne room drowned in black water.
A child screaming Eleanor's name as the world burned.
A crown of bone forming above her head.
She stumbled. Ashryn caught her.
"What did you see?"
Eleanor shook her head. "I don't know. But I miss something. Someone."
Her hands trembled. Then steadied.
The Prince stepped forward, voice low.
"You're nearing the echo line."
"What's that?"
"The point where your mind and the Veins become indistinguishable."
The Ice Mask
In the center of the Vault stood a statue made of ice—faceless, feminine, cloaked in runes that bled light. Its mouth was open in a silent scream. Its hands clutched a crystal heart.
The Fourth Vein lay inside.
The moment Eleanor stepped closer, the statue breathed.
"You cannot kill what you are."
Her own voice replied—though she hadn't spoken.
Ashryn drew her sword.
The Prince did not stop her.
"You said this would help her," Ashryn snapped. "She's changing."
"I said she would understand," he replied. "Change was always the price."
Ashryn's Choice
Eleanor stepped toward the Vein.
"Stop," Ashryn whispered.
Eleanor paused.
"You're not yourself," Ashryn said. "You barely remember your name. You looked at me yesterday like a stranger."
"I'm not a stranger," Eleanor said softly. "I'm what's left."
Ashryn raised her blade. Her hands shook.
"I swore to protect you. But if you become her—"
Eleanor turned.
"I'm not becoming her. I'm becoming what comes after."
The Lastblood's Truth
The Prince approached the Vein's heart.
"This was once sealed by my blood," he said. "I was eleven. They slit my throat and fed half my soul into this ice. I died. But the Queen whispered—and I lived again."
Ashryn stared at him. "You're a revenant."
"A vessel," he corrected. "Half-man. Half-ward."
He reached into the ice, and the Vein pulsed.
The chamber darkened.
"Time bends here."
"She waits beneath herself."
The walls bled shadow.
And Eleanor stepped forward again.
The Echo Vision
The Vein opened—not in sound, not in sight—but in remembrance.
Eleanor saw herself on a mountain of bones. A crown upon her head. Ashryn kneeling—bloody, blind. The Lastblood Prince at her side, faceless.
The Choir of Hollow Saints chanting in the sky.
A sixth Vein, blacker than night, split the world.
"This is your end," the Vein said.
"And your beginning."
Ashryn's Last Plea
Ashryn grabbed Eleanor's arm. "Don't."
Tears ran down her cheeks. "If you go through with this—if you take this Vein—whoever you were will be gone."
Eleanor looked at her.
Her eyes shimmered silver.
"I think she's already gone."
Ashryn took a breath.
Then lowered her blade.
A Silent Break
Eleanor touched the crystal heart.
No explosion. No scream. Just a deep silence, like the air had been taken from the world.
The Vein cracked—once.
Light spilled from the statue.
It shattered.
Eleanor collapsed.
Her hair turned white at the ends. Her veins darkened.
She was still breathing.
But something had changed.
Elsewhere… a Fifth Stirs
In the Desert of Shal'Kar, where no human had walked in centuries, a ripple of black fire surged through the sand.
The Fifth Vein opened its eyes.