The path to the shrine is narrow—
too narrow, too quiet, too aware.
The forest feels different now, like it's listening.
Like every tree has turned its face toward them, watching their approach.
May grips Nathel's hand as they move, her heartbeat syncing with his the way it always does when fear tries to swallow her.
"How far is it?" she whispers.
Nathel doesn't look back.
"Far enough to be dangerous.
Close enough that we can make it—if the Veil doesn't reach first."
The bond pulses again, sharp and urgent, tugging under her ribcage like a hook made of heartbeat.
May stumbles.
Nathel catches her instantly.
"May—look at me."
She lifts her eyes.
The air between them seems hotter for a moment.
Strained.
Fragile.
Alive.
"It won't take you," Nathel says, voice low and fierce. "I won't let it."
She nods, breath shaking.
But even as they keep moving, she can feel it:
the invisible pull of something ancient tugging her closer…
closer…
closer.
Past the last cluster of trees, the forest opens into a solitary clearing.
And there—
in the center of the clearing—
stands a decaying shrine built from stone older than any map of Ghana.
Moss clings to its edges.
Cracks lace through it like veins.
Yet it radiates a quiet, humming power that vibrates in her bones.
"The Shrine of the Lost Echo," Nathel murmurs.
May looks at him.
"The echo of what?"
He hesitates.
Then:
"Of memories tied to souls."
He swallows.
"Of the people we lose… and the ones we are still bound to."
May's breath hitches.
"Your father."
Nathel's eyes soften with something between grief and awe.
"He built this shrine to protect his spirit after death. So that he could still linger here… if needed."
May approaches the shrine slowly.
There's no statue.
No carving.
Just a stone slab covered in spiraling symbols that glow faintly as she draws near.
Nathel steps beside her.
"When I was taken into the Veil all those years ago, I didn't survive by strength."
A pause.
"I survived because something in me anchored my consciousness to this shrine. My father's bond… and the one I didn't know I had with you."
May feels her throat tighten.
"Nathel… why me?"
He exhales shakily.
"Because our souls were tied before we ever met."
A soft, pained smile.
"And because the Veil knows you can wake the part of me it tried to erase."
A gust of wind blows through the clearing, cold and unnatural.
The shrine glows brighter.
And a voice—
gentle, low, distant—
whispers Nathel's name.
May's breath freezes.
"Was that—?"
Nathel nods, eyes shining with something raw.
"His spirit. What's left of it."
The air thickens, shimmering with pale blue heat.
A faint silhouette—broad-shouldered, tall—appears beside the shrine.
Not fully formed.
Like light struggling to remember being a person.
Nathel steps forward, voice cracking.
"Father…"
The spirit lifts its head.
It speaks without sound—
its words sliding directly into their minds.
"The Veil is tearing."
May shivers violently.
Nathel pushes forward.
"Can you protect her? Until we fix it?"
The spirit flickers.
Its form wavers like smoke in wind.
"The Veil seeks balance. It took from you once. Now it tries to take from her."
Nathel's jaw tightens painfully.
"I won't let it."
The spirit's head tilts.
"You cannot stop what you do not understand."
May steps forward, lifting her chin.
"Then help us understand."
The spirit turns toward her.
And everything—
the wind, the trees, the world—
falls silent.
The air hums, lifting the ends of her hair.
In its hollow eyes, she sees not malice…
but recognition.
As if it's seen her before.
As if it's been waiting.
Finally, the spirit speaks again:
"Child of the Twin-Bound… you carry the heart that completes the echo."
May feels her chest tighten painfully.
"What does that mean?"
The spirit turns toward Nathel.
"The bond between you is older than your bodies. Older than the worlds. When he was taken, half of him was locked in the Veil."
It looks at May again.
"And the other half was left with you."
Nathel stiffens.
"Father—she was just a child when I disappeared—how could she—"
"The soul does not follow time," the spirit replies.
"Your connection predates both your births."
The ground trembles.
A crack splits through the shrine.
May gasps.
The spirit flickers like a candle in a storm.
"The Veil has found you."
The bond jerks violently—
a pull so strong May screams, clutching her chest.
Nathel grabs her, holding her upright.
"Father! Stop it—protect her!"
The spirit tries—
light flaring—
but the shrine cracks wider.
A tear opens in the air behind them—
a swirling rift of shadow and silver.
Nathel pulls May closer, wrapping an arm around her.
"May, stay with me—look at me."
She tries.
But the pull is growing stronger—
like something is dragging her spirit out of her own body.
The spirit reaches toward them—
"There is only one way to resist the Veil—"
The rift widens, wind roaring.
May can barely hear his voice as the world begins to tear open.
"—you must complete the bond—"
The wind explodes outward.
May's scream is swallowed by the darkness.
And the Veil—
finally—
takes her.