By nightfall, the forest had transformed. What had been haunting now felt hostile. The trees leaned inward, as if to listen. The ground turned uneven, studded with bones of creatures Liora couldn't name. A fog rolled low to the earth, glowing faintly with blue light—not moonlight, but something older. Magic. Residual. Waiting.
Jaeyun slowed his pace. His hand hovered near his weapon, and his eyes—normally sharp and alert—were scanning too quickly now. He was nervous.
"We're close," he said.
"How close?" Liora asked, glancing around. Her ring had started pulsing again, a slow, steady throb against her chest.
"Close enough to feel it," Jaeyun murmured. "And close enough that they can feel us."
They emerged into a ravine carved into the earth like a scar. At the far end stood a ruin—a gateway of black stone choked in vines and covered in runes that shimmered faintly in the dark. Half-collapsed pillars ringed the space, some bearing marks identical to those on Liora's ring.
It wasn't just a doorway. It was alive with power.
"The Threshold of Varn," Jaeyun said quietly.
Liora stepped forward slowly, heart pounding. The closer she got, the louder the whispers in her head became—fragments of memories not her own.
> "This is where she made the pact…"
"The veil tore here first…"
"Everything ends where it began…"
Liora blinked rapidly, trying to push the voices back.
"What is this place for?" she asked.
"It was once a crossing," Jaeyun said. "The veilborn used it to walk between worlds. Between this realm and the Otherwhere. But now it's broken. Corrupted. The Shadow Court poisoned it, turned it into a trap for anything with power."
"And that's why I have to go in?"
He nodded, grim. "There's something inside. A fragment of the original veil. The Court wants it. But if you reach it first…"
"I can seal the wound," Liora finished.
"Yes. Or… you could tear it wider."
A sharp cry rang through the forest.
Jaeyun spun, blade drawn. Liora crouched, fingers reaching for the ward pouch Madame Wierna had given her. From the trees came rustling—swift, precise. Not beasts.
The Marked.
Four of them emerged, faces masked, cloaks billowing. One held a whip of chainlight. Another, a lantern filled with screaming shadows. The lead Marked stepped forward, hood drawn back, revealing a woman's face—pale, angular, with eyes like cut glass.
"Veilborn," she said, voice like wind through teeth. "You carry the blood of the First. Surrender, and your death will be brief."
Jaeyun stepped between them, blades drawn. "Try touching her. See how brief your life becomes."
The Marked leader smiled. "You still think you can protect her, Shadow Knight? You failed your last vow."
Liora stiffened. "Ignore her," she said to Jaeyun. "She wants to rattle you."
"Oh, she'll rattle more than that," Jaeyun muttered.
Suddenly, the Marked attacked.
Jaeyun launched into them like a storm, metal flashing, feet sliding across broken stone. Sparks and shadows collided as he blocked the lantern's darkness with his runed blade, slashing across the nearest Marked's shoulder.
Liora backed toward the threshold, breathing hard.
"Focus," she whispered to herself. "You're Eliara's blood. You are the veil."
She took the pouch of smoke root and wyrm's moss and flung it into the firepit nearby. The herbs ignited instantly, and a greenish smoke erupted, forming a temporary shield between her and the Marked.
Jaeyun's voice rang out from the chaos. "Now, Liora! Get inside!"
She turned to the threshold. The ring around her neck pulsed, and the stones flared with sudden light. A voice—not Jaeyun's, not hers—filled her head:
> Name the gate. Claim the blood. Choose the path.
Her lips moved on instinct. "By Eliara's mark and my own will… I open the gate."
The doorway ignited with blue fire—and Liora stepped through.
The world turned sideways.
Liora stumbled as she crossed the threshold, her body instantly drenched in cold. Not just physical cold—this was soul-deep, like stepping into the memory of death. She gasped and dropped to one knee, her breath forming white clouds in the airless dark.
Around her, everything shimmered.
The sky above was no longer the starless Polish night, but a swirling expanse of violet and silver clouds. Beneath her feet, stone tiles floated in an endless black void. Gravity seemed uncertain. Distance made no sense. The landscape twisted like thought given shape.
This was the Otherwhere.
The Veil.
She stood on a broken bridge of light, leading to a floating temple wrapped in ghostly chains. Every breath she took echoed as if whispered back by a thousand voices. The ring at her neck pulsed rhythmically—guiding her deeper.
"Choose the path…"
A voice again. Hers? Eliara's? The veil's?
Liora moved forward cautiously, her boots scraping against the ancient stone. Each step awakened memories not her own—brief flashes of a past that burned behind her eyes:
A woman in silver robes standing before a council of shadows.
A vow whispered over a pool of moonlight.
A blade made of sorrow, buried in a lover's chest.
Liora blinked the visions away. "Not now. I need to focus."
As she neared the entrance of the temple, the air grew heavier. Chains hanging around it vibrated softly, like strings on an unplayed instrument. The doorway was inscribed with the same rune that marked her ring—and beneath it, a warning etched in old tongue:
> Enter by blood, not by name.
Remember what was forgotten, or be undone.
She stepped through.
Inside was no hall or sanctuary. It was a chamber of reflection—walls of shimmering glass, each showing different versions of herself. In one, she was older, dressed in veilborn armor, leading others like her. In another, she was burned and broken, her eyes hollow. A third showed her kneeling before a throne of bone, wearing a crown of thorns.
"This is what could be," she whispered. "Possible futures…"
"You are not ready."
The voice came from behind her.
Liora spun.
A figure stood there—identical to her in every way, but robed in midnight silk, eyes glowing with violet light. A shadow-self. A spirit echo, drawn from the veil's memory of her.
"I'm not afraid of you," Liora said.
"You should be," the echo answered. "You carry power you do not understand. You open doors you cannot close."
Liora stepped forward. "Then show me. Help me understand. I didn't come here to be safe. I came to finish what Eliara started."
The echo tilted its head, amused. "And what if Eliara was wrong?"
Liora faltered. "What do you mean?"
The chamber trembled. The glass walls rippled, distorting the visions.
"She tore the veil open," the echo said. "To save your bloodline. But the price was balance. To bind shadow, she unbound light. Her sacrifice kept you alive… but doomed others."
The glass behind the echo showed it now—Eliara at the Threshold, bleeding into the stones, her hands clutching a broken sigil. A scream echoed, not of pain, but of loss. It shook the temple.
"I don't believe that," Liora whispered. "She gave everything to stop the Court. She saved the world."
The echo frowned. "Perhaps. But do you have the strength to finish what she began… even if it means becoming what she feared?"
The ring on her chest flared. A new path revealed itself in the floor ahead—spiraling downward into blackness, toward a chamber glowing with blue fire.
"That's where the fragment is," Liora said, breath catching. "The core of the veil."
Her echo nodded. "Then go. Face it. But know this—power does not cleanse. It reveals."
The echo vanished.
Liora clenched her fists and moved toward the spiral path.
Every step downward was a choice.
And she was done running from who she might become.