The shadows of Kraków stretched longer than they should have that evening.
As the city lit its lamps and pulled close its shutters, something darker moved through its alleys and rooftops—silent as breath, hungry as death.
Liora returned to Madame Wierna's shop just before nightfall. Her boots were caked with mud and moss, her cloak damp with forest dew. She said nothing as she passed the old apothecary, who looked up sharply from behind her counter.
"You went to the woods," Madame Wierna said, not a question but a statement.
Liora hesitated. "I saw the altar."
The old woman paled slightly, lowering her gaze to the bundle of dried herbs in her hands. "And you touched it?"
"I had to."
Madame Wierna sighed and began tying the herbs together with trembling fingers. "Then it has truly begun. You've stirred the veil."
Liora lowered her voice. "Tell me what it wants. What I am."
But Madame Wierna only shook her head. "That is not mine to tell. It never was."
Before Liora could press further, the door to the shop opened without warning. Cold wind surged inside. Standing in the doorway was Jaeyun, his long coat streaked with ash and snow. His expression was hard. Urgent.
"They've crossed the border," he said. "The Marked are in the city."
Madame Wierna's mouth fell open. "Here? But it's too soon—"
"They must have felt the veil shift," Jaeyun interrupted, his tone grim. "They're hunting her now."
Liora stood straighter. "Let them come."
Jaeyun turned to her, eyes sharp. "You don't understand what that means. The Marked aren't mindless. They are elite servants—bound to the Shadow Court's will. Each of them trained to kill witches. You're not ready."
Her jaw tightened. "Then help me get ready."
He studied her for a moment. Then, without a word, he tossed her a small velvet pouch. It landed in her palm with a soft clink.
"What's this?"
"Saltstone from the Old River. Ground bone of a dusk hound. Bloodroot. Mix it into a warding circle before nightfall," he said. "It won't hold them forever, but it'll slow them."
Liora looked at Madame Wierna, who nodded solemnly. "Do as he says, child. Tonight is not for pride. Tonight is for survival."
---
That evening, in the attic room, Liora knelt in the center of the floor and drew the circle carefully, just as Jaeyun instructed. The scent of the ingredients was sharp—iron and earth and something darker, older.
When the last rune was drawn, the edges of the circle pulsed faintly blue.
Jaeyun entered through the window, landing silently behind her. "Good," he said. "Now sit in the center. Stay there. No matter what you hear."
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I'm going to keep them out," he said simply. "And if I fail… you'll know what to do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He looked back at her, and something in his face cracked—just for a moment. "You'll have to run."
Thunder cracked above the city. The blue moon broke through the clouds.
And far below, in the sewers beneath Kraków, six figures emerged—hooded, pale-skinned, their eyes glowing red. They sniffed the air, and one of them smiled.
"The veilborn girl," it hissed. "We found her."
The city fell silent, as if Kraków itself sensed what was coming.
Inside the attic room, Liora sat within the glowing circle, her back straight, heart racing. The ward Jaeyun helped her create shimmered like a faint mist, forming a protective dome around her. Her fingers curled tightly around the pendant at her neck, and the ring throbbed with heat, reacting to something unseen.
Jaeyun stood at the far end of the attic, blade in hand—not silver, not steel, but forged of something darker, humming with power. His coat had been thrown off, revealing the dark runes inked across his arms—sigils of old magic, of promises kept and curses embraced.
Below them, the shop creaked.
Then came the sound of footsteps. Not hurried or clumsy, but slow. Deliberate. Confident.
Madame Wierna, in the floor below, was murmuring incantations, her voice tight with effort. Charms on the door rattled. Glass cracked. Then—
Silence.
"Get ready," Jaeyun said.
The attic door burst open—not from force, but from sheer presence. Darkness flowed into the room like smoke, and with it, a figure stepped forward.
Tall. Lean. Cloaked in shadow. His skin was ashen, and crimson eyes gleamed beneath a hood. A scar ran across his lips, stitched shut by some twisted magic, yet Liora could hear his voice in her mind.
> Veilborn. You are claimed.
Jaeyun stepped between them in a flash, blade raised. "You'll touch nothing here."
The figure didn't flinch. Instead, he raised a skeletal hand and drew a shape in the air—a rune that pulsed like an open wound. Shadows behind him split apart as two more Marked entered. One bore talons instead of hands. The other's eyes were stitched shut, yet they moved with uncanny precision.
"Liora," Jaeyun said through gritted teeth, "no matter what happens—do not leave the circle."
"But you can't fight all of them alone—"
"I've done worse for less," he growled.
Then the Marked attacked.
It was chaos and beauty. Jaeyun moved like smoke, like fire—his blade flashing with blue light as it collided with claws, runes, and unnatural speed. For every strike he landed, he took one in return. His blood spattered against the ward's edge but did not break it.
Liora watched, powerless, fury and fear mixing in her throat. Her pulse pounded in her ears. The ring at her neck burned hotter, brighter, as if trying to awaken something buried deep.
The stitched-lipped Marked turned toward her again, lifting his hand.
> You belong to the Court, his mind-voice echoed.
Suddenly—the ring flared.
Liora gasped, eyes going white.
And for a moment—she was not Liora anymore.
She was Eliara again, standing at the altar, the moon directly overhead. Her voice was steady, full of command:
> I call to the blood before me. I call to the veil behind. Awaken, awaken, awaken...
Back in the attic, Liora chanted without knowing the words. Her voice echoed with ancient power. The circle pulsed. The floor beneath her cracked. The shadows hissed, recoiling.
Jaeyun's blade pierced the chest of the stitched one, who let out a final psychic scream before collapsing into ash.
The others hesitated.
Liora stood within the ward, her eyes still glowing, voice still ringing:
> By blood unbroken, by moonlight bound—leave this place or be undone.
The Marked hissed—and vanished into the smoke, fleeing into the night like torn mist.
Silence returned.
Jaeyun dropped to one knee, bloodied, panting.
Liora collapsed back into the circle, body trembling, the ring now cool and inert once more.
Jaeyun looked up at her, wonder in his eyes.
"You're not just remembering her," he whispered.
"You are her."