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The fire's afterglow still clung to the sky as they stumbled through the woods, but Ethan's skin prickled, not from heat, but from the vibrations in the air.
The chanting grew louder. Each guttural syllable pressed against his ears like hammers. He stumbled, clutching his head.
"Ethan?" Lyra grabbed his arm, her face pale in the moonlight. "What is it? What do you hear?"
He tried to answer, but the words twisted inside him. It wasn't just sound, it was pressure, waves of something unnatural grinding against his bones. He could feel the rhythm inside his blood, as though the earth itself throbbed with the chant.
Kael scanned the trees ahead, sword raised. "Trouble. Keep moving."
"No—" Ethan rasped. He dropped to one knee, bile rising in his throat. "It's not just trouble. They're… calling something."
The path widened into a clearing, and there they saw it.
Figures robed in black stood in a circle, torches planted in the ground. The flames burned an unnatural green, casting shadows that bent the wrong way. Between the cultists, a symbol carved into the earth glowed faintly, threads of crimson light weaving like veins.
Kael swore under his breath. "Obsidian warlocks."
Lyra's face hardened, her flames guttering to life in her palms. "They're opening a Veil tear."
Ethan's stomach dropped. A tear? The word carried weight, a pressure that made his skin crawl.
The chanting peaked. His senses spiked so violently he staggered back, his vision flashing white. He felt the spell, they were tearing at the fabric of reality, clawing at something hidden.
And then he saw it.
Not with his eyes, but with the sharpened edge of his new perception. The Veil itself—the thin skin of reality, quivered. Behind it, something massive shifted, pressing close. Its presence was a storm, whispering with hunger.
Ethan's chest constricted. "They're bringing it through!"
Lyra's gaze snapped to him, firelight dancing in her eyes. "You can see it too?"
Before he could answer, the ground cracked. The sigil flared crimson, and a claw, black, jagged, steaming with shadows, pierced through the dirt.
Kael shouted, yanking Ethan to his feet. "We're not fighting that! Move!"
The cultists raised their voices, fanatical, as more of the beast forced its way through the tear. Its roar shattered the night, shaking leaves from the trees.
Ethan's sharpened senses tore him apart, he heard its heartbeat, smelled the stench of its breath, felt its hunger crawling under his skin.
Every instinct screamed the same thing.
Thiswasnotafighttheycouldwin.
And as they fled, Ethan made the mistake of looking back.
Through the half-torn Veil, the beast's eyes locked on him, burning like molten gold, filled with recognition.
It knew him.
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