Casimir Kingston
The dream came again that night, sharper than before. Fire and the sound of her voice calling my name. I was standing in the middle of a burning field, smoke twisting through the sky like torn fabric.
The scent of ash and blood filled the air. I reached for her, but every time my hand touched light, it turned to dust.
I woke with a jolt, tangled in the sheets, breath ragged. The dim glow of the dying fire cast shadows across the room. My chest ached as if the dream had left real wounds. I rubbed my face, trying to chase away the fragments still clinging to me.
Nicholas sat by the hearth, polishing his blade, as calm as ever. "You should stop fighting sleep if it keeps fighting back," he said without looking up.
"You talk too much for someone who never sleeps," I muttered, pushing myself upright.
"I sleep when the world stops falling apart," he said. "So never."
I leaned my elbows on my knees and stared at the coals. "How long have we been here?"
"Three nights," he said. "The people call this place the edge of the world. They might be right. Nothing grows here but fog and superstition."
I reached for the bottle on the table and poured a drink. The liquor burned as it went down, sharp and welcome. "I have lived in worse places."
"You have died in better ones," he replied.
I gave him a look, but my mouth curved anyway. Our rhythm was old, sharp words hiding older scars. I poured another drink and handed it over.
He took it but did not drink. "He is still waiting for you. The King does not have long."
I let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "He has been dying for years. He just does it louder now."
"You are his heir," Nicholas reminded me.
"I did not ask to be."
"You were born to be."
I looked into the fire again. The shadows inside it flickered like wings. "Birth is not a choice. Neither is blood."
Nicholas leaned back. "Then choose something else. But do it soon. The Veil is collapsing, and it will take us with it."
I said nothing. The bottle felt heavy in my hand. For a moment, I thought I saw movement in the reflection on the glass. Not my face, but something darker. Gold eyes staring back, bright and wrong. When I blinked, they were gone.
I stood, restless, needing the cold air more than his advice. The floorboards creaked under my boots as I crossed to the window. Outside, fog rolled through the streets, swallowing the lamplight. The town below looked fragile under it, a thing that could vanish if the mist decided to close its hand.
From here, I could see the cliffs where the land ended and the sea began. Beyond that shimmered the faintest trace of silver light - the Veil. Once it had been solid, a barrier that hummed with life. Now it looked like a wound that refused to heal.
"You feel it too, do you not?" Nicholas asked quietly.
I nodded. "It feels like standing on the chest of a dying god."
"And yet you still refuse to go home."
"Home," I said. The word felt wrong in my mouth. "Eldryn stopped being home when she died."
Nicholas's tone softened. "It was not your fault."
"Then whose was it?" I turned from the window. "I was the one who failed her."
He looked down at the blade in his hands. "The same one who whispers through the cracks in the Veil now. Elijah Varyn is not dead. The King believes he is stirring again."
The name cut through the quiet like thunder. "That is a story for children," I said.
"Then it has worked," Nicholas replied. "Because the children are not sleeping."
I stared at the horizon again. The shimmer of the Veil pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. I could almost hear it, low and steady, echoing through my chest.
"I have seen rifts before," I said. "But this one feels different. It breathes."
"Breath implies life," he said.
"Exactly."
The restlessness in me grew until I could not stand still. "We leave at first light."
"Where to?"
"The border town. The rift is strongest there. That is where we will start."
Nicholas stood and fastened his cloak. "And if the King dies before we return?"
I felt my jaw tighten. "Then I will bury another ghost."
That ended the conversation. We packed in silence, the sound of steel and leather filling the room. When we stepped outside, the night was cold enough to sting the lungs. The mist clung to everything. The streets were empty, the lamps burning low. The only sound was the sea.
We walked to the harbor. The fishing boats rocked gently against the tide, ropes creaking in rhythm with the waves. Somewhere far off, a bell tolled once, long and hollow.
I stopped at the edge of the pier. The water stretched black and endless. Beneath it, something moved. Not the current, not the tide. Something deeper. Watching.
Nicholas joined me. "Do you hear that?" he asked.
I listened. "What?"
"The hum," he said. "Like the sea is breathing."
I closed my eyes. The sound was faint, but there. A low rhythm beneath the crash of waves. It pulsed through me, familiar and wrong. It felt like a heartbeat answering mine.
I turned away sharply. "We ride at dawn."
Nicholas nodded. "Try to sleep."
"I do not sleep," I said, though we both knew it was a lie.
We returned to the inn. The fire had burned low, leaving only embers. I lay down but did not close my eyes. I stared at the ceiling, counting the seconds between the beats of my heart and the pulse I could still feel in the distance. For a moment, they were the same.
Somewhere far away, I knew someone else felt it too. A pull across the Veil, soft but insistent. A heartbeat answering mine.
When sleep finally came, it brought her back to me. Not the woman from my past, but another. She stood on a cliff, wind in her hair, the sea behind her glowing like molten glass. When she turned, her eyes caught the light, green threaded with silver.
I woke with her name on my lips, though I had never heard it spoken.
Ava.
The word burned in my chest like truth. I sat up, heart pounding. Dawn was creeping through the window, pale and thin. Nicholas was already awake, fastening his armor.
"You look like you have seen a ghost," he said.
"Maybe I have," I murmured.
We rode out as the first light touched the cliffs. The hooves of our horses struck sparks from the stones, the sound fading into the rhythm of the waves below. Ahead, the Veil shimmered faintly, silver and alive, its pulse echoing in time with mine.
I did not look back. I already carried enough ghosts.
By the time the sun climbed over the ridge, the fog had turned to something alive. It clung to the road and to the hooves of our horses, curling around us like it meant to listen. Havenscove waited ahead, small and gray against the sea, a place that smelled like salt, rain, and forgotten prayers.
I rode in silence. The wind bit through my cloak and carried the sound of distant waves. Nicholas rode beside me, always steady, his eyes fixed on the horizon as if daring it to shift. The world felt too quiet. The kind of quiet that hides teeth.
"You could almost forget the rest of the realm exists out here," he said after a while. "The people live like the old wars never touched them."
I kept my gaze on the mist. "Until the sea reminds them."
The town came into view slowly. Narrow streets, crooked roofs, chimneys spilling thin trails of smoke. The people here built their lives from stone and fear. They glanced up when we passed, then pretended not to see us. Two men on black horses draw too much attention in a place like this. I could smell their unease.
"They are afraid," Nicholas murmured.
"Of what?" I asked.
"Of what they cannot name."
He was right. There was something in the air. The pulse of the Veil was faint but steady, like a heartbeat buried under stone. I could feel it in my chest. It had been years since I had been this close to it, and already my blood felt heavier, my thoughts slower.
We stopped near the square. A small fountain trickled in the center, its water dull and thin. The statue above it was a woman carved from weathered stone, her hands raised to the sky. Her eyes had long since eroded, but even blind, she looked like she was watching.
Nicholas dismounted first. "The people here do not trust outsiders. We should not linger."
I slid down from the saddle and looked toward the cliffs. The shimmer of the Veil was faint but visible, a thread of silver trembling against the gray horizon. It pulsed once, and something inside me answered.
Nicholas followed my gaze. "The rift is close."
"I know," I said quietly. "It calls to me."
We tied the horses near the market square. The stalls were just beginning to open, the air filling with the smell of bread and fish. People moved quickly, heads down, as if afraid the fog might overhear them.
Nicholas scanned the streets. "There is an inn at the far end. We can start there, listen for talk of sickness or strange dreams."
"I will find something for this headache first," I said. "The sea air does not agree with me."
Nicholas raised a brow. "You mean to ask these people for a hangover cure?"
"Even an Alpha bleeds," I said. "A hangover is still pain."
He shook his head. "Try not to frighten them."
I smiled faintly. "No promises."
I walked through the square, boots slipping on the wet stones. Every step echoed too loud in the mist. The scent of brine clung to everything. A man sat by the fountain, arm bandaged, his face gray from recent illness. He looked like he had been hollowed out from the inside.
"You," I said, stopping beside him. "Where did you get that wound treated?"
He looked up, startled by my voice. "At the healer's shop, sir. Up the hill past the bell tower. Haven's Nook."
The name caught something in me. I nodded once. Thanked him and made my way towards this healer's shop.