Morning came without light.
The sky was a sheet of gray, heavy and unmoving, as if the sun had forgotten to rise.
Aria walked beside Kael through a valley of withered trees. Their branches curved inward like hands reaching for prayer—or for something to strangle. Every breath she took carried the scent of iron and frost, and beneath it, something older. The air itself seemed alive.
She tried not to think about the night before—the voices that had whispered her name, the glow that had burned through her veins. But silence made it worse. The more she ignored the pull beneath her skin, the stronger it became.
Kael, as always, said nothing. His cloak rippled behind him like shadow incarnate. He never seemed to tire or falter, and though he looked human, she knew better. There was something in the way the light bent around him, how the forest grew quieter when he passed, how the air carried the faintest taste of ash.
Finally, she couldn't hold the question back any longer.
"Kael… what are you?"
He didn't slow. "You wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
A small smile touched his lips, the first she'd ever seen. "Belief is a luxury your kind lost centuries ago."
"My kind?" she echoed.
He looked at her then, and for a heartbeat, she saw something vast and cold in his eyes—like staring into the space between stars. "The living," he said simply, and turned away.
---
By midday they reached a clearing surrounded by ruined pillars. Broken symbols were carved into the stones, the language unfamiliar yet strangely familiar, humming faintly under her skin.
Aria reached out to touch one, but Kael caught her wrist. His grip was firm but not cruel. "Don't," he warned.
"They're just stones."
"They're remnants of the old gate. Touching them without control could pull you through."
"Through to where?"
"The other side of the Veil," he said, releasing her hand. "The place your blood is trying to remember."
Her pulse quickened. "You mean the Forbidden Realm."
Kael gave no answer, but the silence was enough.
She turned away, swallowing the fear that rose in her throat. "You said I wasn't supposed to be born here. Then why do I feel like I belong there?"
"Because half of you does," Kael murmured. "And that half is waking up."
---
The ground trembled.
It began as a low vibration, then deepened into a pulse that shook the air. The runes on the stones flared to life, glowing blue-white. Aria stumbled back.
"Kael—what's happening?"
"Something's crossing through." His hand went to the blade hidden beneath his cloak. "Stay behind me."
From the center of the clearing, mist began to rise—dark, shifting, and full of whispers. Shapes moved within it: long limbs, too many eyes, and faces that seemed carved from smoke.
Aria froze. "What are they?"
"Echoes," Kael said. "Souls that tried to return when the Veil first cracked. They don't remember what they were, only what they lost."
The nearest Echo turned toward them. Its eyes were hollow pits, its mouth stretched into a silent scream. Then it lunged.
Kael moved faster than sight. His blade flashed once, cutting through the thing like fire through glass. It shattered into dust—but three more took its place.
Aria backed away, heart hammering. The whispers grew louder, circling her like a chant.
Aria… child of silver… return… return…
"No," she whispered. "Leave me alone!"
But they didn't. The mist coiled around her feet, rising up her legs like living shadow. Pain shot through her body, sharp and burning. Her vision blurred—and suddenly she was elsewhere.
---
She stood in a vast hall of obsidian mirrors.
Each reflected a different version of herself—some younger, some older, some crowned, some covered in blood. In every reflection, her eyes glowed with light.
A voice filled the space, smooth and ancient.
> "You were never meant to hide among mortals, Aria of the Silver Vein. You were born from the promise of gods and the rebellion of fire."
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice echoing endlessly.
> "The one who remembers what your world forgot. The last guardian of the Realm that birthed you."
The mirrors began to shatter one by one, releasing flares of silver mist.
> "Wake, child. The door will not wait forever."
She screamed as the mist wrapped around her, burning and freezing all at once—then the world snapped back into focus.
---
She was on her knees in the clearing. The Echos had surrounded her, their whispers now frantic, desperate. Kael fought like a storm, every strike of his blade tearing holes in the air itself. But there were too many.
"Aria!" he shouted. "Listen to me—call it back!"
Her ears rang. "Call what back?"
"Your blood. It's not a curse—it's a command."
She didn't understand, but instinct moved before thought. She pressed her hands to the ground, closing her eyes. The silver beneath her skin flared. The earth responded.
A ripple of light burst outward, throwing the Echos back like leaves in the wind. The glowing runes dimmed. The forest fell silent.
When she opened her eyes, Kael stood before her, breathing hard. For the first time, he looked shaken.
"What did I do?" she whispered.
"You listened," he said quietly. "And for a moment, the Realm listened back."
---
They didn't speak again until the sun set, washing the valley in red. They found shelter in a hollow beneath a broken archway. Aria sat beside the dying fire, staring at her trembling hands.
Kael crouched nearby, sharpening his blade. The sound of steel against stone filled the air.
"Those things… they were trying to pull me through," she said softly.
"They were testing you," he corrected. "They wanted to see if you were strong enough to survive the crossing."
"Crossing what?"
"The line between life and divinity."
She looked up sharply. "You speak as if you've crossed it yourself."
Kael paused. His expression didn't change, but the air around him seemed to darken. "Once," he said. "And it cost me everything."
Aria hesitated. "Were you… human?"
He looked into the fire. "Once."
The flames flickered higher, reflecting in his eyes—and for an instant, she saw the truth beneath the mask: wings of shadow, torn and burning, fading into nothingness.
Then it was gone.
"Kael," she whispered, shaken. "What are you?"
He rose to his feet, cloak falling around him like midnight. "A reminder," he said. "That gods are not born—they're made. And making one always requires a sacrifice."
---
Later, when the fire had died and the stars filled the sky, Aria lay awake. Every sound of the night seemed alive—the river murmuring, the wind whispering through the stones. Her blood pulsed faintly beneath her skin, matching the rhythm of something far away.
A faint hum drifted through the air. She turned and saw Kael standing alone at the edge of the clearing, his hand pressed against one of the ancient stones. Silver light traced patterns up his arm, vanishing beneath his sleeve.
"Kael," she said softly, rising. "What are you doing?"
He didn't turn. "Keeping the Veil from opening before you're ready."
"Can it open by itself?"
"Yes," he said. "The gods trapped behind it have waited too long. Your awakening stirs them. They will try to reach you again."
"Why me?" she asked.
Kael turned at last, and in his gaze she saw centuries of grief. "Because you are their last child. And their weapon."
Her heart froze. "And you?"
He stepped closer until the starlight framed him like a silhouette. "I am the one sent to make sure the world survives your return."
For a long time, neither spoke. Then he said softly, almost to himself,
"But I don't know if I want to."
The wind rose, carrying the faint echo of distant voices—those same whispers from the Veil, calling her name.
Aria shivered. For the first time, she wasn't sure if they sounded like enemies… or family.
Above them, the stars flickered once, as if something vast and ancient had just opened its eyes.
The silence after the storm was almost holy.
Smoke from the shattered trees curled like ghost-hands toward a blood-red sky, and Aria could hear nothing but her own heartbeat. It pounded inside her skull, a lonely drum in a broken world. The air still throbbed with the echo of power—hers, wild and half-awake.
Her knees gave way. The ground rushed up and she barely caught herself, one palm sinking into ash. The taste of metal filled her mouth; her vision dimmed around the edges.
"Stay awake."
Kael's voice cut through the haze, quiet yet absolute. He moved toward her—no sound of footsteps, no weight on the burnt earth, only the whisper of his cloak brushing against the wind.
"Don't—" she tried to speak, but a sudden tremor rippled through the clearing. The trees shivered. From their blackened roots oozed something pale and formless. It crawled, whispering, feed… feed on the living spark…
A remnant of the spirit she'd destroyed. The Forbidden Realm's curse never died—it only changed shape.
Aria staggered backward, her strength bleeding away. The entity lunged for her chest, drawn to the heat of her blood.
Kael moved faster than thought. His hand slashed through the air, and the shadow froze mid-leap, impaled by a streak of light so cold it burned blue. The energy didn't look like hers; it was older, heavier, bound by runes that flickered in patterns she couldn't read.
The shadow screamed, folding in on itself until nothing remained but dust.
Aria's breath hitched. "What… what was that?"
Kael didn't answer. He simply lowered his hand—and that was when she saw it. The veins beneath his wrist glowed faintly, the same color as her own light when it had erupted earlier, only darker—like moonlight drowning in ink.
Her heart lurched. "You…"
Before she could finish, Kael stumbled. The light beneath his skin flared violently. Cracks of power shot through the air, bending the trees outward, warping the space around them.
"Kael!" Aria reached for him, but the ground split between them. The raw energy pouring from him wasn't just magic—it was alive. It pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.
He raised his head, and for the briefest instant she saw his eyes—not the usual storm-gray but a blinding silver shot with black fire. They burned with the same fury that had once torn through her.
"No," she whispered, stepping back. "That can't be."
Kael exhaled sharply, forcing his power back down. The wind died, and the cracks sealed as if the earth itself obeyed him. When he finally spoke, his voice was ragged.
"It's nothing you need to fear."
But Aria could feel the lie vibrating through the air. Her own blood thrummed in answer, whispering something ancient and terrible. He is not your savior, child. He is your mirror.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling. "You said I was the last."
Kael turned away. His cloak caught the dying light, torn and flickering at the edges where the energy had scorched it. "You are."
"Then why—"
He stopped, his back still to her. "Because the Realm lies."
The words hung between them like a blade. Before she could ask what he meant, he walked toward the edge of the clearing, the faint silver still bleeding from his fingertips.
Aria watched him go, every step widening the distance between them—and yet something in her chest refused to let him fade into shadow. The air he left behind crackled, humming with the same resonance as her soul.
She sank to her knees again, clutching the pendant at her throat—the only relic she'd carried from her destroyed village. It pulsed faintly now, answering the rhythm she'd felt in Kael's power.
Two lights of the same origin. Two heartbeats from one forbidden seed.
She looked up to the sky, now paling into dawn. The clouds churned in slow spirals, faintly luminous, as if the Forbidden Realm itself were watching.
If Kael shared her bloodline—if he, too, carried the sin of the gods—then everything she believed about her destiny was a lie. She wasn't the last. She wasn't even alone.
But worse still, she might not be the chosen one at all.
When Kael turned back for her, his expression was unreadable. "We move at sunrise," he said quietly. "There are others who will come looking."
"Others?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
And as he disappeared into the fog, Aria's fear settled into something colder—a new awareness, sharp and piercing. The voice of the Realm hummed again in her mind, a lullaby of darkness:
The blood remembers its own.