The moment they left the ruined sanctuary, the sky had changed. No longer the dull gray of dusk, it had deepened into a bleeding red twilight. Something in the world had shifted—because of Russ.
They camped that night under a crooked tree near a stream that had long since dried up. The air felt heavy, and even the stars seemed distant, reluctant to shine.
Geo poked at the fire. "We should talk about what that void-spook said."
"Thirteen days," Layla murmured. "To stop a god from returning."
"No pressure," Minx said, flopping dramatically onto a blanket. "Just your classic end-of-the-world scenario. Happens every other Tuesday."
Russ didn't laugh. He sat apart from the group, staring at his hand—the one that had touched the Codex. Faint cracks had begun to form on his skin, glowing with pulsing voidlight. He clenched his fist.
"This isn't a gift," he muttered. "It's a leash."
Layla sat beside him, quiet for a moment. "You think your father knew this would happen?"
Russ nodded. "Yeah. And that's the worst part. He walked away from all this… and left me to carry it."
"Maybe he believed you could handle it."
"Or maybe he didn't care."
There was silence for a while.
Then Geo cleared his throat. "We're near the border of the Crimson Dominion. There's someone we could visit. An old contact of mine—Vera. She's a blood augur. Can read lineage, trace magical corruption, even barter with spirits."
Russ looked up. "You think she could tell me how much time I really have?"
Geo nodded. "And maybe how to stop it."
---
They reached Vera's domain by mid-morning the next day—a bizarre tangle of bone towers and willow trees, half in the material world, half phasing into the spirit realm. Crows watched them from the branches, silent and unmoving.
Vera emerged from her hut before they could knock—tall, pale, draped in veils made of moth wings.
"I smelled death and prophecy," she said, her voice like dry silk. "Who carries the Talen blood?"
Russ stepped forward. "I do."
"Ah." She extended a hand tipped with silver claws. "Give me your palm, child."
He hesitated, then obeyed. She drew a thin line of blood, licked it, and her eyes rolled back as her body convulsed. For a moment, she spoke in tongues—whispers of things lost to time.
Then… silence.
She looked at Russ again, this time with something akin to pity.
"Your blood is a cage. Your soul, a battlefield. The Codex didn't awaken you. It recognized you."
Russ's voice was low. "Tell me what I am."
"You are the Key, forged from the line of Quinn and touched by the First Veilbearer. Your system—your powers—they are not yours. They are the remainders of ancient wars stitched into your flesh. You are not evolving. You are remembering."
Layla frowned. "Remembering what?"
Vera smiled. "What it means to be a god."
The fire dimmed.
"But beware," Vera added. "The more you remember, the less of Russ Talen will remain. And in the end, the gate won't need to open—because you will become it."
The weight of her words settled like chains around Russ's heart.
As they turned to leave, Vera whispered something else, barely audible:
"There's another. A half-blood. She's awakening too."
Russ stopped in his tracks. "Who?"
Vera only smiled. "You'll know her… when she tries to kill you."