"Worse. She tried to become a god."
The air held still, the whispers of the forest fading for a moment. Terya frowned, her smirk gone. "She descended," she said, her voice low.
Zara nodded, her hand brushing the curse marks on her thigh.
"Her name was Anveyra, priestess of Lysara. She believed if she bled herself on all thirteen altars, Lysara would raise her as a divine vessel. But something went wrong. She didn't ascend. The ritual shattered the veil between worlds. Let in something else. Something alive."
Leon swallowed, the weight of her words settling in his chest.
"The Crimson Veil," he said, his voice quiet, the name heavy.
Zara's gaze dropped to the glowing red script crawling up her thigh. "It feeds on despair. It twists forests, poisons spells, and binds itself to people. Like me." She paused, her voice cracking slightly.
"Now, the forest itself serves it. And it doesn't want help."
Leon stared at the remains of his failed spell, his hand twitching.
