Ava
Sleep would not come. The air was too heavy, and the silence too loud. I had tried to read, then to write, but every candle in the house flickered and died before I could reach the next page.
The sea hummed beyond the cliffs, a low, unending sound that found its way beneath my skin.
I turned on my side, watching the faint light that slipped through the curtains. The shadows shifted across the walls like they were breathing.
My pulse would not steady. It beat too fast, too loud, too alive. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes of silver and felt warmth that was not mine.
At last, I gave up on sleep. I rose, pulled my shawl tight around me, and checked on Oliver, he was sleeping with the innocence on his face and no worry that only a five year old child can have. I gently kissed his head and fixed his quilt. He was the only calm in my world that felt like it was chaos.
I came back to my room and lit another candle. The flame shivered but held. I tried to read the same line three times and could not make sense of it.
My thoughts would not stay still. Somewhere beyond the window, the wind changed. It carried the faintest whisper, soft but clear, as if someone was calling my name.
I told myself I imagined it. I always told myself that.
When I finally drifted into sleep, it did not come gently.
The world around me burned. I stood in a field of ash, the air thick with smoke. The sky was red and alive, fire raining down from clouds that bled light. I could taste iron on my tongue, could hear the screams of wolves and the crash of magic against stone.
A man stood at the center of it all. His back was to me, his body haloed in fire. When he turned, I saw his eyes, gold burning through the smoke. I knew that face. I had seen it before, I knew it. Casimir. But he was younger.
He reached for something that was no longer there. His hand closed around empty air, his mouth shaping a name I could not hear. The grief that moved through him was not his alone. It ran through me like a blade.
Then I saw the wound on his arm. Silver light crawled beneath his skin like veins of fire, spreading until it reached his shoulder. He fell to his knees. The light became too bright to look at. I felt the heat of it, the pain, and I screamed…
I woke with a gasp, my hands pressed against my chest. My skin burned where his wound had been. The candle had gone out again, the room drowned in darkness.
My breath came fast, and for a moment, I did not know if I was awake. The sound of the sea filled the house, louder than before. It was not the waves. It was something else. Something alive.
The hum had changed. It was no longer just beneath the cliffs. It was near. I rose and went to the window. Through the fog, faint light flickered along the road that led to the shop. Silver and shifting, like the glow of the Veil.
I did not think. I only moved. I stepped outside, barefoot, the cold earth biting at my feet. The mist curled around me, damp and cold, carrying the scent of rain and iron. I followed the light through the fog, my heart hammering, each beat pulling me forward.
When I reached the bend in the road, I saw him.
He lay half in the mud, half in the light. His body was still, his clothes soaked, his face pale as bone. The glow came from beneath his skin, tracing along his arm and across his chest. It pulsed faintly, in rhythm with the hum of the Veil.
"Casimir," I whispered, but he opened his eyes as if he heard me tried to move towards me but his knees gave out.
I ran to him and caught, the wet earth seeping through my gown. His skin was cold, too cold, yet I could feel the power moving inside him, wild and untamed. I pressed my hand to his chest. His heartbeat was there, faint but fighting.
His eyes opened suddenly, gold burning through the shadows. He looked at me like he was seeing something beyond this world. "You should not be here," he said, voice raw and broken.
"I could say the same to you," I whispered. "You are hurt."
He tried to rise, but the effort sent a shudder through him. His hand gripped mine before I could pull away. "Do not touch me," he said, though his fingers did not let go.
The light beneath his skin flared. I could see it spreading up his neck now, searing through him like molten silver. His breath caught in his throat. I felt the pain as if it were mine.
"Casimir," I said again, my voice trembling. "Let me help you."
He shook his head. "It will burn you."
"I do not care."
Before he could stop me, I pressed my palm over the wound on his arm. The light answered. It leapt from his skin to mine, a current of warmth and pain that drove the air from my lungs. The world vanished in white.
I saw everything in flashes, the burning field, the dying king, the howl of wolves beneath a bleeding moon. I saw him kneeling in the rain, his hands covered in ash and blood, his heart breaking as he buried someone he loved.
The vision tore through me like lightning. I gasped and tried to pull away, but he caught my wrist, holding me there. His voice came through the light, low and desperate. "You should not see this."
"Then stop showing me," I whispered, but I could not move. The Veil had bound us again.
When the light finally dimmed, he was unconscious. His head rested against my lap, his breath shallow but steady. The glow along his arm had faded, leaving faint lines of silver across his skin. My own palm still shimmered where I had touched him. The light would not fade.
I sat there in the mud, rain falling around us, holding him because I did not know what else to do. The world felt suspended, balanced between storm and silence.
Then I heard her voice.
Tata Sofia's tone was low, almost carried by the wind. "Do not touch what binds the dark, child."
I looked up, startled. She stood at the edge of the road, her shawls soaked, her face pale. Her eyes were not angry, only sad.
"I had to," I said. "He was dying."
"Perhaps he still is," she said. "And now, so are you."
The words hit harder than the rain. I looked down at the faint light still glowing between our joined hands. The Veil's pulse echoed through it, steady and soft, binding us both.
Tata Sofia stepped closer, her voice breaking the silence. "The night remembers what it takes, Ava. And it always comes to claim what it gave."
The wind rose, carrying the scent of the sea and something else beneath it, something old. I held him tighter, afraid to let go, afraid to see what would happen if I did.
The candlelight from the shop flickered in the distance, small and far away. The fog closed around us again as if the night listened.