The dawn crept through the shattered roofs of Ashvale like a dying ember. Smoke still curled from the ruins, faint screams fading into uneasy silence. The last of the shades had retreated into the woods, leaving behind only their stench and the weight of what they'd endured.
Kaelith stood among the wreckage, his claymore driven into the earth beside him. Each breath misted in the morning chill. The faint gleam of divine light traced his skin like cracks in porcelain, remnants of the power he'd nearly burned through keeping them alive.
Seris sat slumped against a wall, her sabre lying at her side, its edge chipped and blackened. Her vambraces flickered weakly, the runes along them dim. Every muscle screamed in protest, every breath tasted like smoke — yet she couldn't sleep. Not now. Not after what they'd seen.
Riel crouched nearby, coiling his chain absently. His hands trembled, though he didn't show it. His gaze was locked on the distant temple, its humble stature hiding the horrors within.
"It's not over," he said quietly. "They'll come again tonight. More of them."
"They will," Kaelith replied, his tone calm but heavy. "And when they do, we'll be ready."
Varen approached, carrying a satchel of fractured stones — remains of the barrier Seris had anchored. His expression was grim but focused. "The shades grow stronger because the temple feeds them. There's a seal buried under it, cloaked by layers of illusion. I can break that shroud… but I'll need time."
Kaelith nodded. "How long?"
"I don't know, a day. Maybe less, I need to see it again."
"Then that's what we'll do." He drew his sword free, divine light rippling along its surface like liquid dawn. "We rest, we rebuild what we can, and when you're ready… we end this."
Their small circle fell quiet. The plan was reckless, born of desperation — but it was all they had left.
As they spoke, Seris's heartbeat quickened. The air around her seemed to hum, faintly vibrating with something ancient and alive. Ever since the ritual, something inside her had been calling. Not in words — in rhythm, in heat. A pull behind her ribs, guiding her somewhere beyond the waking world.
Her vision blurred. For a moment, the room shifted — the world around her rippling like water — and she saw it: a faint silhouette of another place superimposed over reality.
Her inner Veil.
Every warrior had one — a space bound to their soul, where their essence took form. The place where their true strength bore fruit. It wasn't the Veil, scholars trained within or priests used for meditation but it was linked to it, a boon granted by the Eternal Ocean of Silver, a reflection of their soul.
It was hers alone — a sanctum only her spirit could reach.
She rose unsteadily. Kaelith's gaze caught her movement instantly. "Seris?"
"I'm fine," she lied, forcing a small smile. "Just… something I need to do."
Riel frowned. "After that fight? You can barely stand."
She turned to him, her amber eyes steady. "If I ignore this, I'll never stand again."
The words carried a strange finality, one even she didn't understand.
Kaelith took a step forward, but she raised a hand. "Don't follow. I'll come back."
Her voice softened, a flicker of warmth even through the exhaustion. "I promise."
And then she closed her eyes.
Light pulsed from her skin, rippling outward in concentric rings. The air bent, heat shimmering like a mirage. And in a breath — she vanished.
⸻
The Inner Veil
Silence.
Then, fire.
Seris opened her eyes to a horizon of molten gold. The sky rippled with light, and beneath her feet stretched an endless plain of cracked obsidian, glowing with veins of magma. The air was thick and still, each breath heavy with warmth that wasn't entirely real.
She knew this place. Not by memory, but instinct. It was her soul made manifest.
The remnants of every battle she'd fought, every moment she'd refused to bend — all burned into this plane like scars.
"This is me," she whispered, and her voice echoed endlessly.
The world answered in heat. The ground trembled, fire spilling upward like a dragon breaking from beneath the earth. The fire wasn't wild — it was measured, precise, like a forge at the moment of creation.
Pain surged through her limbs, but it wasn't cruel. It was refinement. The purification of will.
Her thoughts scattered — to the villagers who still prayed in fear, to Kaelith's steady leadership, to Riel's quiet determination, to the hundreds who would die if they failed.
Her exhaustion, her fear — they were real. But they didn't define her.
Something within her snapped — not in weakness, but in release.
The roaring flames condensed, swirling around her in a spiral of gold and crimson. From the horizon, a band of fire rose — curved, radiant, destructive like a fragment of the crimson maw himself.
It arced behind her, circling her like a halo that refused to close — a perfect crescent of blinding warmth.
The Blazing Arc.
Her soul-image.
It was not a weapon. It was not wrath. It was resolve made visible.
The fire filled her, burning away doubt. Her pulse synchronized with the heartbeat of this realm, her eyes blazing like dawn through smoke. The heat did not consume — it tempered.
She fell to her knees, tears cutting tracks through soot that wasn't there. The Blazing Arc pulsed once, then dissolved into her chest, leaving behind only the memory of its warmth.
And then, the world faded.
⸻
Return
The air rippled, and Seris stumbled back into the mortal plane. Her armor glowed faintly along the seams, molten lines tracing her skin. Her sabre gleamed anew, light spilling off the edge like liquid sunlight.
Kaelith was the first to reach her, steadying her by the shoulder. "Seris?"
Her eyes opened — bright gold, warm, alive. "It's done," she said softly.
Varen's lips parted in awe. "You've awakened. You've become a Sentinel."
She smiled faintly. "Guess it was about time."
The air around them lightened. Even the ruins seemed less oppressive, the shadows bending slightly away from her glow.
Riel stared quietly. The warmth in the air brushed against his shadow — and instead of rejecting it, his darkness shifted with it, like gold veins threading through ink.
He gritted his teeth and gripped his chain, forcing his will through it. The metal shuddered, responding to his determination. Shadows flared from his arms, flickering gold at their edges.
He wouldn't fall behind.
He couldn't.
And for a brief, blinding instant — the world bled gold.
The grass, the stone, even the breath between heartbeats shimmered. Riel's vision twisted — Kaelith's light splitting into countless fragments, Seris's glow burning like a miniature sun. Behind them, he saw impossible shapes — wings and halos, crowns and mouths — all coiling within a single heartbeat before reality snapped back.
He stumbled, clutching his head, breath shallow.
No one noticed.
Only the faint mark under his eye pulsed once, gold flickering against the dark.
Kaelith sheathed his sword and looked toward the temple. "We move at dusk," he said firmly. "We end this before the next night falls."
Varen nodded, rolling his shoulders. "Then I'd better finish the ritual before the light dies."
Seris exhaled slowly, her golden aura flickering but steady. "Let's make sure it's the last night we see them."
The morning light caught her face, painting her in warmth and shadow both — a sentinel standing between day and night.
And behind her, Riel's shadow rippled faintly, gold veins spreading through the black like cracks in reality itself.