The mist thickened again.
Not in warning. In presence.
Kael stood beside Elira now, one arm bracing himself against a twisted pillar. The twins rested quietly, though their breathing shifted, as if they too felt what drew near.
The forest darkened.
Not from shadow, but from silence. Even the glowing trees dimmed slightly, their light drawn inward like breath before a scream.
And then it came.
A figure stepped from the fog. Not a Watcher. Not veiled.
Taller than both Kael and Elira. Cloaked in robes that shimmered between black and blue, shaped like starlight on the surface of water. Its face was hidden by a mask of ancient glass etched with runes.
It did not speak.
But they heard it.
"Children of broken flame. Inheritors of frost unbound. The veil remembers your names."
Kael tightened his grip on the stone.
Elira stepped forward. "You're not one of them."
The being tilted its head. "No. I am older."
It raised one long-fingered hand. Not in threat, but in declaration.
"The time of watching ends. The time of reckoning begins."
Kael stepped forward. "Why us?"
"You are not chosen," the voice said. "You are born."
The mist pulsed once.
The glass mask glowed.
"Prepare. The realms no longer sleep."
And with that, the figure vanished.
The ruin remained.
But silence was no longer safety.
It was the breath before war.