The trail Lyra's soldiers left wasn't hard to follow. Blood, scorched earth, and faint claw marks carved into the trees marked their path. They weren't hiding their movements. They wanted me to follow.
The shard embedded in my chest pulsed with every step, guiding me like a compass. I could feel it pulling, not just toward Aria, but toward something deeper. The Veil.
The closer I got, the heavier the air became. The night itself felt thicker, the shadows stretching longer than they should, as though something behind the trees was leaning closer to watch.
By the time I reached the clearing, I understood why.
Lyra's camp wasn't a camp—it was a ritual site. At its center stood a massive arch of black stone, runes glowing faintly along its surface. The air around it shimmered, rippling like a reflection on water. The gate.
Aria was bound at its base, her arms chained with glowing links that sizzled against her skin. Her glow was dimmer now, but her eyes were sharp, tracking every movement around her. The mark on her arm had spread again, curling along her collarbone and down her ribs, feeding on the gate's energy.
Lyra stood near the arch, her black armor catching the moonlight. She didn't move when I stepped out of the trees, but her smirk widened.
"Right on time," she said, her voice carrying easily across the clearing. "I was worried the tether would burn you out before you arrived."
I didn't answer. My claws slid free, longer and darker than before, the shard's power humming beneath my skin.
Lyra gestured lazily to the arch. "You can feel it, can't you? The gate is waking. Every breath you take, every beat of your heart, feeds the bond—and opens it wider."
I didn't care about her words. My eyes were on Aria. She met my gaze and shook her head once, sharply, as if warning me. Not yet.
The air shifted before I could move. The runes on the arch flared bright, and a deep, guttural sound rolled through the clearing—like a growl, but too vast to belong to anything living.
The Veil tore open.
The shimmering air split, revealing a void on the other side. Black mist poured through, curling into shapes—clawed, twisted figures that didn't move like any living creature. Their bodies rippled, their edges shifting as though they weren't entirely solid.
The first one lunged out, slamming into the dirt with enough force to crack the ground. Its head turned toward me, its face more shadow than flesh, eyes glowing faint white.
Lyra didn't move. She just watched, her arms folded. "The Veil demands blood," she said softly. "You, Kael, can decide whose it will be."
More creatures spilled through—six, seven, then more. They didn't hesitate. They moved as one, circling me, their claws scraping deep furrows into the dirt.
The shard pulsed again, harder, syncing with the gate's rhythm. My vision blurred at the edges, red bleeding into the corners. I felt the wolf rise, eager, stronger than ever—ready to tear through anything in its path.
But every surge of power carried a cost. My chest burned where the shard was lodged, each beat of my heart dragging me closer to something I didn't fully recognize.
Aria's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent. "Kael! Don't let it take you. Not yet!"
The first creature lunged.
I moved faster than I should've been able to. My claws met its throat, tearing through shadow and flesh alike. The others didn't pause—they closed in, their movements relentless, their forms twisting as if the shadows themselves were fighting alongside them.
Lyra watched from the edge, her smirk never fading. "Every drop you spill feeds the gate. Keep fighting, Kael. You'll open it wide enough for the Herald to step through himself."
The shard pulsed one final time, harder than before, and a thought—not mine—slipped through my mind like a whisper:
Break the chain. Take the key. Open the way.
For a moment, I didn't know if the voice was the shard, the gate, or something else entirely.
But I knew one thing. If I kept fighting on instinct, I wasn't leaving this clearing as myself.