The night after the battle bled into silence, but it was not peace.
Elena sat on the chapel steps with her knees drawn up, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The scent of ash lingered in the air; charred marks streaked across the cobblestones where the wraiths had burned away. Lamps flickered uncertainly, as if the shadows had left scars even in the light.
The people of her town—neighbors, shopkeepers, classmates—were gathered in small huddled groups along the streets. Their voices carried in whispers, too low to hear clearly but sharp enough to sting her ears all the same. Every glance seemed to cut.
"She fought them off."
"I saw her—glowing like the sun."
"No one can do that unless they're… unnatural."
"She saved the boy."
"She stood with the shadowed one. Maybe she's with him."
Elena hugged her knees tighter. She had grown up among these people. Shared festivals, eaten at their tables, laughed under the summer lanterns. And now—after a single night—they looked at her like a stranger. Like something dangerous.
Kael stood a little ways off, half in the dark. His silver eyes tracked the murmuring townsfolk, cold, unreadable. His shadows curled faintly at his feet, restless. Elena knew he could hear every word—probably more clearly than she could.
She wanted to ask him what to do, how to fix this, but her throat wouldn't form the words.
The boy she had saved earlier—small, with wild curls and a tear-streaked face—was sitting against his mother now. He kept looking at Elena, clutching the stuffed rabbit she'd carried him with. There was no fear in his gaze. Only quiet wonder.
It should have comforted her. It didn't.
Anna's voice broke through the murmurs. "Elena."
Elena stiffened. Her best friend—her anchor to normal life—was standing at the edge of the crowd, eyes fixed on her. Anna's face was pale, her hands gripping the boy's shoulders as if to steady herself.
"You need to tell me," Anna said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried. "What's happening to you? What are you?"
All eyes turned.
Elena's chest constricted. She opened her mouth—nothing came out. Her hands trembled, faint sparks of light flickering across her skin as if her power were reacting to her fear.
Kael moved then, stepping forward. His voice cut across the tension, low and edged. "Enough. She owes you nothing."
The townsfolk flinched at his tone. Some retreated, muttering. Others glared, suspicion thickening in the air.
Anna's eyes darted to him, then back to Elena. "You're with him? With… whatever he is?"
Elena's throat burned. She wanted to explain—to Anna, to all of them—but the words tangled like thorns. How could she say yes, the boy cloaked in shadows is the only reason you're alive tonight? How could she admit that her heart leaned toward him even as the world pulled her away?
She stood, legs unsteady. "Anna, I—"
A shriek tore through the night. The crowd scattered instantly, people clutching their children, fleeing indoors. Elena turned toward the sound, but no new shadows surged. The shriek had come from within. From the Veil itself, bleeding faintly through the cracked sky.
Kael's jaw tightened. "It knows we weakened tonight. It's pressing harder."
The fissures above shimmered faintly, glowing with unnatural light. For a heartbeat, Elena thought she saw eyes in the cracks—watching.
The chapel bell rang once, sharp and jarring. Father Tomas, the old priest, stood by the rope, his weathered face pale. "Inside," he barked at the crowd. "All of you! Now!"
The townsfolk obeyed, herded quickly. Soon the street was empty, save for Elena, Kael, and the priest.
Father Tomas's gaze lingered on Elena. Not with fear—but with knowledge. As though he had seen this before.
"Child," he said quietly. "The veil thins. If you mean to protect them, you must learn to strengthen it. Soon."
Elena blinked. "You… you believe me?"
He did not answer, only turned back into the chapel.
Kael's eyes followed him. "Interesting."
Elena frowned. "What?"
"That man knows more than he should."
They returned to the chapel later, when the town had settled into a nervous quiet. Candles flickered along the altar, their flames unsteady. Kael spread a circle of salt on the stone floor, his movements precise, deliberate.
Elena sat opposite him, legs crossed, trying to mimic his stillness. But her thoughts spun too fast.
"They're afraid of me now," she whispered. "All of them. Even Anna."
Kael didn't look up. "Fear is easier than understanding. It always has been."
She bit her lip. "But they know me. I've lived here all my life. Shouldn't that mean something?"
Finally, he raised his gaze. His silver eyes glowed faintly in the candlelight. "It does. Which is why their fear cuts deeper. It's not the strangers' whispers that wound—it's the doubt of those closest to you."
Her throat tightened. He was right. And the way he said it—quiet, weighted—made her wonder how many times he had been in her place.
"Kael," she said softly. "Who doubted you?"
For a long moment, he didn't move. Then his shoulders shifted, just slightly. "Everyone."
The word hung heavy between them.
Before she could press further, he straightened. "Focus. The barrier. If we fail here, it won't matter what they think of you tomorrow."
The ritual was more complex than anything they had attempted. Kael guided her through every step, his voice low, steady. They traced sigils into the salt, mixing their blood into the lines. Candles were placed at exact angles, their flames forming a pattern across the floor
"Close your eyes," Kael instructed. "Feel the boundary—not here, not there, but the line between. That is what we hold."
Elena obeyed.
At first she felt nothing but the cold stone beneath her. Then—a trembling hum, faint but distinct. Like a thread stretched thin across endless space. She reached toward it instinctively.
Light flared from her chest. Shadows rose from Kael's hand. The energies met, clashing at first, then intertwining. The air grew heavy, charged. The sigils glowed.
"Good," Kael murmured. "Hold it steady. Don't let go."
Sweat beaded her brow. Her heart raced. The thread quivered violently, resisting their hold.
And then—whispers. Louder than ever.
You will fail them. They already turn against you. Why suffer for those who would cast you out?
Elena gasped, clutching her head. The ritual faltered. Kael's hand shot out, gripping hers tightly.
"Elena!" His voice anchored her. "Listen only to me. Nothing else."
She forced her eyes open. His face was close, intense, unwavering. The shadows around him pulsed in rhythm with her light, creating a fragile balance.
The thread steadied.
For a heartbeat, she thought they had succeeded.
Then the floor trembled. The candle flames guttered.
Kael's eyes widened. "No. It's too soon."
A figure rose from the circle—a Shadeborn, tall and thin, its body twisting like smoke given shape. Its face was featureless, save for a mouth too wide, teeth glinting.
Elena's blood ran cold. "How—how is it here already?"
Kael drew shadows into a blade, pulling her behind him. "The entity adapts. It sent an assassin through the breach."
The Shadeborn hissed, lungin.
The battle inside the chapel was chaos.
The creature moved like liquid darkness, sliding across the salt lines, slashing with claws that dripped black fire. Kael met it with precise strikes, his shadows clashing against its own. Sparks of corrupted energy burst with every blow, rattling the stained-glass windows.
"Elena!" he barked. "The barrier—hold it steady!"
Her hands trembled, but she forced her focus back to the thread. It shivered violently, threatening to snap. She poured light into it, sweat streaming down her temples.
The Shadeborn shrieked, whirling toward her. Its claws raised
Kael intercepted, his blade locking against its arm. The force slammed him back, boots skidding across the stone. "I can't hold it forever!"
Elena's chest burned. Her light flared brighter, shooting upward into the ceiling. For a moment, the Shadeborn recoiled, hissing.
The whispers surged, taunting, merciless.
He will fall. You will be left alone. You cannot save him. You cannot save anyone.
"No!" Elena screamed.
Her power exploded outward, filling the chapel with blinding radiance. The Shadeborn screeched, its body unraveling into smoke. With a final, piercing wail, it dissolved into nothing.
Silence crashed down.
Elena collapsed to her knees, chest heaving. Kael dropped beside her, shadows dissipating slowly. His hand pressed against hers, grounding her.
"You did it," he said quietly.
Tears burned her eyes. "We both did."
But even as relief washed over her, she felt it—the thread still trembling, weaker than before. The barrier had held, but barely.
Kael's expression darkened. "It learns. Every move we make, it adapts. Next time, it won't send just one."
Elena's heart sank. The weight of fear pressed heavier than ever. Not just the town's suspicion. Not just the whispers in her head. But the crushing truth: their enemy was growing stronger with every breath.
And if they faltered once, everything—and everyone—would be lost.