Chapter 50 – When the Sky's Veil Tears
That night, the sky was not black. It pulsed, like the final breath of a dying giant. Thin fractures stretched across the heavens, forming lines of light that should not exist, trembling, scattering dust of light and blood belonging to no one.
Enver stood motionless at the edge of an astral tower balcony. His eyes—two bottomless mirrors—watched as the fractures crawled across the horizon. The wind blew, yet it was not the wind of this world. The air carried the scent of old iron and funeral incense, mixed with whispers no human tongue had ever spoken.
Below, mortals still walked, still laughed, still complained. They were blind. Even the city's sorcerers saw only an ordinary night. But Enver knew—this was no ordinary night. It was the beginning of something they would never understand.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind him. Not from the physical world, but from the realm of essence. One by one, seven figures emerged from the thinning mist: the Hellseer Council.
Eyes closed, tears of gold flowing—Saelmir, the Mind's Whisper.
A black-and-crimson scale gleaming in his hands—Kavdrin, the Scale of Regret.
Hands radiating blue light—Ysera, the Echo of Mercy.
Endless chains clattering—Dorvas, the Warden of Chains.
A glowing veil concealing her face—Elhara, the Song of the Veil.
Spiraling flames dancing in his grasp—Noveras, the Furnace of Judgment.
And last, a shattered black moon above his head—Miredan, the Silence of Ends.
They stood in a circle, their gazes—whether eyes open or sealed—fixed upon the fracture in the heavens.
"The boundary weakens," whispered Saelmir, his voice echoing inside every mind present.
"Do you feel it, Enver?"
Enver did not answer. He only nodded slowly. His fingers touched the air, and the light from the fracture reflected on his skin like the glint of a blade on still water.
"This is not merely a crack," said Dorvas, his chains restless.
"Someone is pulling it from the other side."
Kavdrin weighed something upon his black-and-crimson scale. A burst of red light flared from one of its plates. "The burden of death rises too fast. Faster than judgment can weigh it."
Ysera closed her eyes, reaching for the prayers of humankind. Yet all she found was silence. "Their prayers never reach. Something is severing the path."
Elhara lifted her thin veil, revealing eyes clear as glass, reflecting the fractures across the sky. "We are being watched," she whispered.
"From beyond the veil."
All eyes turned to Enver.
He exhaled, a breath carrying the weight of every life he had ever touched.
"This is no time for questions. We all know what happens when the portals collapse: death ceases to be death, life ceases to be life."
The heavens shuddered. The fracture widened, from a thin line into a gaping maw dripping with dark particles. The particles fell, piercing roofs, soil, and bone—seeping into living bodies without their knowing.
Noveras's spiral flames flared violently. "If we do not close it now—"
"—We will never close it again," Enver cut in. His voice was cold, yet none dared to defy it.
But Miredan, the End, still spoke. "There is one path. But that path will summon a name we all despise to utter."
Enver looked at him. In that gaze lay acknowledgment—he knew the name. A name they loathed to speak.
"Maxcen," Miredan said at last.
The name fell like a stone into a bottomless well. The air grew heavier. Noveras's fire dimmed. The whispers grew louder—laughter, far away, but not of this world.
Kavdrin lowered his gaze. "If this fracture is an invitation, then Maxcen is already on his way."
Enver remained calm, though behind his eyes, the whole world spun. He knew that every step taken from this moment would lead to a point of no return.
"Prepare yourselves," he said.
"Tonight, the sky will collapse. And we will be the only ones left standing beneath it."
As if obeying an unspoken command, the seven Council members raised their symbols. The weeping eyes, the trembling scale, the radiant hands, the binding chains, the glowing veil, the blazing spiral flame, and the shattered black moon orbiting Miredan.
The fracture responded—widening, throbbing, like a wound forced open. From within, an eye the size of a city began to open.
The earth, and all worlds bound to it—held their breath.
Enver closed his eyes, absorbing the essence of all life around him. He did not gather strength for himself, but to hold the boundary a few seconds longer. A few seconds—long enough for them to decide whether this world would endure, or crumble beneath Maxcen's feet.
And in the midst of it all, he knew one truth:
This was only the beginning.
---