The attic was still, save for the ragged sound of breath and the distant tolling of bells in the city below.
Liora lay curled inside the warding circle, her hands trembling, vision slowly returning to normal. The glow had faded from her skin, but the echo of power remained—like a fading song still humming through her bones.
Across from her, Jaeyun leaned against the wall, clutching a deep cut along his ribs. Blood stained his shirt and soaked into the floorboards. His blade rested beside him, the runes along its edge dimmed.
"I didn't mean to…" Liora's voice was hoarse. "It just… happened."
"You spoke in the Old Tongue," Jaeyun said, almost in disbelief. "No one's spoken that language in centuries. Not even the elders remember it clearly."
She swallowed hard. "I don't remember the words. Not really. It was like… something else took over."
Jaeyun's expression darkened—not with fear, but recognition.
"That was the veil's memory. Eliara's memory. The veil doesn't just hold magic, Liora. It holds souls. It remembers the blood it's bonded to, and when the bond is strong enough… it doesn't just whisper."
"It becomes you," Liora finished quietly.
She looked down at the floor, her mind spinning. "So what does that mean? That I'm some reincarnation of her? That I'm supposed to finish what she started?"
Jaeyun shook his head. "You're not her. But you carry her blood. Her spirit may echo within you, but this is your life. The choices are yours."
Liora looked at him sharply. "Then tell me the truth, Jaeyun. What really happened to her?"
He turned away, his eyes distant, haunted. "She made a pact. A sacrifice. The veil was breaking, even then. To hold it together, she gave more than her power—she gave her soul. She became part of the veil itself."
"And you?" she asked.
He looked back at her, jaw tight. "I was supposed to protect her. I failed."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Liora stood, carefully stepping out of the now-faded circle. "I saw more in that memory. A forest. A ruin with a stone gateway. Symbols like the ones on the ring. Do you know it?"
Jaeyun nodded slowly. "Yes. That's the Threshold of Varn. The veil's first tear. A place of great power… and greater danger. But it's not safe. The Shadow Court has agents guarding it—waiting for someone like you."
"Then that's where I need to go."
"You're not ready," Jaeyun said.
Liora squared her shoulders. "Maybe not. But the veil chose me. And I won't let Eliara's sacrifice be for nothing."
He stared at her, then finally rose to his feet, wincing slightly. "Then we'll go at dawn. But you need to understand something."
"What?"
"Once we cross that threshold, there's no turning back. The veil will test you. It may show you things you can't unsee."
She met his gaze, unwavering. "I'm not afraid of the truth."
Jaeyun's expression softened, and just for a moment, the fierce warrior faded. "That's what she said, too."
Outside, the blue moon dipped lower on the horizon.
And somewhere in the night, a different kind of hunter stirred—one not of flesh and fang, but of prophecy and blood.
The veil had awakened.
And its secrets would no longer sleep.
The horizon was bleeding into amber as dawn approached, yet the streets of Kraków remained cloaked in chill. Liora had barely slept. Her dreams were no longer her own—flashes of Eliara's life haunted her: a battlefield under a crimson sky, hands raised in defiance against shadow, a kiss shared beneath a tree burning with silver fire.
When she awoke, her hands were already clenched, as though she'd been casting a spell in her sleep.
Downstairs, Madame Wierna was boiling something bitter in a blackened pot. The scent curled through the air—herbs for clarity, protection, and perhaps something older.
"You're leaving," the old apothecary said without looking up.
Liora tightened her cloak. "I have to. The Threshold of Varn—"
"I know what it is." Wierna finally turned, eyes hard. "And I know what it demands. That place is cursed. Wounded. It's where the veil first bled into this world. What sleeps there was never meant to wake."
Jaeyun entered then, dressed in travel leathers and a dark scarf wrapped around his throat. His wounds from the night before had been hastily bandaged, but his movements were sharp again—ready.
"She has to go," he said quietly. "The Marked won't stop hunting her until the veil is sealed—or shattered."
Wierna sighed. She pulled a small leather pouch from beneath the table and handed it to Liora. "Take this. Smoke root and wyrm's moss. Burn it if your path crosses the dead. The veil's edge is thin near Varn. The spirits there are hungry."
Liora took the pouch with a grateful nod. "Thank you."
The old woman hesitated, then stepped forward, placing a weathered hand on Liora's cheek.
"You carry more than blood and destiny, child. You carry pain you don't yet remember. Be kind to yourself when it comes."
Liora blinked, caught off guard by the tenderness. Then she turned to Jaeyun. "Let's go."
---
They traveled on foot at first, cutting through frost-covered meadows and icy trails outside the city. Jaeyun led the way, his senses tuned to movement and magic, ever alert.
As they reached the forest's edge, Liora looked up. The trees were taller than anything she'd seen before—ancient, black-barked, their roots coiled like serpents beneath the snow. The moment they crossed into the wood, the air changed. Sound dropped away. Even the birds refused to sing.
"It's not natural," Liora whispered.
"No," Jaeyun agreed. "But nothing near the Threshold is."
Hours passed in silence, broken only by the snap of branches and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. Liora felt them before she saw them—eyes watching from the mist. Not the Marked, not yet. But something older. Feral. Dreamlike.
Suddenly, Jaeyun stopped.
Ahead was a clearing, and in its center stood a massive standing stone, cracked through the middle. Symbols glowed faintly across its surface, pulsing in time with Liora's heartbeat.
She stepped forward slowly, hand outstretched. The ring at her neck grew heavy, pulling toward the stone like a lodestone to its origin.
"What is this place?" she asked.
Jaeyun answered quietly. "A waymarker. One of the last of the Old Paths. Before the veil began to fade, the veilborn could travel through these places—between lands, between dreams."
Liora knelt before the stone. As her fingers brushed its surface, the forest seemed to exhale. Her breath misted. Light burst behind her eyes.
And she saw—
A cloaked figure holding a child. A voice whispering: "Hide her. Before the veil calls her name."
A blade plunging into the earth, blood soaking the ground.
And a crown—woven of shadow and bone—falling from unseen hands.
---
Liora staggered back, gasping.
"What did you see?" Jaeyun asked.
"A child. I think it was me. Someone saved me—hid me. But from what?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he touched the stone, muttering something under his breath. The symbols on the surface flared and faded.
"The Threshold's close," he said. "Just beyond the ravine. If we move quickly, we'll reach it by nightfall."
Liora stood, shaken but determined.
Whatever the veil wanted to show her—whatever truth it had buried—she would face it.
And this time, she wouldn't run from the past.