The weight of a dead man is far heavier than the weight of a living one.
Kael Voss didn't walk back to the central outpost; he dragged himself, Carson's cooling body draped over his shoulders like a shroud of lead. Every step through the inner gates of Elysara felt like a betrayal of the earth.
The citizens, usually bustling with the false security of the morning market, fell silent. Their eyes—wide with a mix of pity and terror—tracked the blood dripping from Kael's boots.
Look at them, Kael thought, his teeth grinding until his jaw ached.
They look at me like I'm a ghost. They look at Carson like he's a broken toy. Do they have any idea? Do they know the 'monsters' have faces? Do they know the sky has a ceiling?
At the threshold of the Command Sanctum, a wall of gleaming silver-clad Enforcers blocked his path. At their center stood Captain Darius.
Darius was everything a Veilguard was supposed to be: tall, golden-haired, and possessing a gaze that felt like a warm hearth. He stepped forward, his expression a mask of profound grief.
"Soldier, let the attendants take him," Darius said softly, reaching out a hand. "You've done enough. You brought him home."
"He shouldn't have needed to be brought home," Kael spat, his voice a jagged edge.
He didn't hand the body over; he let it slide into the arms of the medical staff with a dull thud that made his heart lurch. "The rift opened like it was invited, Captain. Where were the dampeners? Where was the resonance team?"
Darius's eyes flickered—a brief, tiny flash of something cold before the warmth returned. "The Abyss is unpredictable, Kael. We are investigating. Come. We must debrief."
The interrogation chamber was a box of sterile white stone, illuminated by high-output Aether crystals that made Kael's eyes throb. For an hour, Darius and two Council scribes picked apart the skirmish.
"And then?" the scribe asked, his quill scratching like an insect.
"And then I killed it," Kael said, staring at his stained fingernails. He left out the violet fire. He left out the way the beast looked at him. Most of all, he left out Carson's final, bloody whisper. The Elders lied.
"You seem... different, Kael," Darius noted, leaning across the table. "Survivors usually speak of fear. You speak of nothing but the kill. And your scar... it's quite active today, isn't it?"
Kael instinctively pulled his collar up. The jagged mark on his chest was buzzing, a low-frequency vibration that felt like a hive of angry hornets. "Adrenaline," he lied. "Can I go?"
Darius watched him for a long beat. "Go and take a rest. You're a hero today, Kael. Don't let the darkness of the Abyss swallow that."
The infirmary smelled of antiseptic and herbs. Kael sat on a bench, his head in his hands, until a shadow fell over him.
"You're an idiot, Kael Voss."
He looked up. Mira Thorne stood there, her elite uniform pristine except for the dust on her boots. Her face was stern, but her hands—usually so steady with a blade—trembled slightly as she reached out to dab a damp cloth against a cut on his forehead.
"Nice to see you too, Mira," Kael muttered.
"You charged a Rift-Leader without backup," she hissed, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "I heard the reports. They're calling you a 'miracle.' I call you a suicide candidate. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't. I was just... angry."
Mira paused, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the faint, pulsing glow emanating from beneath his shirt.
She reached out, her fingers brushing the fabric over his scar. Kael flinched.
"Kael," she said, her voice turning unnervingly soft. "My father talks about the 'Core' sometimes. About things that happen to people who get too close to the Veil's edge. This glow... it isn't Aether. It's different. It's dark."
"It's nothing," Kael snapped, standing up so abruptly he knocked the water basin over. "Everyone is looking for ghosts where there are only shadows! I'm tired, Mira. I just want to sleep."
Mira didn't follow him, but her words trailed after him like a tether.
"The Thorne family has kept secrets for generations to keep us safe, Kael. If you're carrying a secret that can burn this city down... tell me. Before the Council finds out."
That night, sleep was a battlefield.
Kael was six years old again, standing in the training courtyard of the Voss manor. Carson stood over him, holding a practice wooden sword. 'Rage is a tool, Kael,' Carson had said, his voice younger, clearer. 'But if you don't sharpen it, it will only cut you. Look at the Veil. That is our shield. Beyond it is only death. Remember why you fight.'
Kael looked up, but the sky wasn't purple. It was the blue sky from the vision—the city of metal. Carson's face began to melt, turning into black tar. 'The shield is a cage, Kael,' the tar-man gurgled. 'Break it...'
Kael bolted upright, gasping for air. His room was silent, bathed in the pale, artificial moonlight of the Veil's reflection.
His hand went to his pocket. He pulled out the object he'd scavenged during the cleanup of a minor aftershock rift just hours ago—a small, triangular fragment of what looked like blackened glass.
As his fingers touched it, the room vanished.
He saw green. Not the pale, stunted grass of the Elysara valley, but vast, rolling forests that stretched forever. He saw oceans—limitless blue water that didn't end at a wall of mist. He saw people... people dressed in strange, glowing fabrics, laughing in the shadow of a mountain that didn't have a dome over it.
It's real, he realized, a bitter sob rising in his throat. The world isn't a wasteland. It's beautiful. And we're... we're the only ones not invited.
A heavy knock at the door made him shove the fragment under his pillow.
The door opened before he could answer. Captain Darius stepped in, draped in a casual cloak.
He didn't look like a soldier now; he looked like a concerned older brother.
"Kael. I couldn't sleep either," Darius said, sitting on the edge of a chair. "The Council has decided. For your bravery, you're being fast-tracked. You're being promoted to the Inner Circle of the Veilguard. You'll have access to the archives, the high-purity Aether pools... everything."
Kael stared at him. A promotion? Or a leash? "Why me? There are others with more talent."
"Because you have the fire, Kael," Darius said, his smile not reaching his eyes.
"And in the coming days, we're going to need people who are willing to do whatever it takes to keep the truth of our salvation intact."
Darius stood to leave, but stopped at the door. "Oh, and Kael? Be careful what you keep under your pillow. Some things are better left in the Abyss."
He left without another word.
Kael's heart thundered. He knew he was being watched. He knew he was in a cage that was shrinking by the hour.
Suddenly, the city's sirens wailed—a long, agonizing drone that signaled a breach. But this wasn't the rhythmic pulse of a Sector attack. It was the frantic, continuous scream of the Veil-Root alarms.
Something was happening near the forbidden ruins—the ancient structures that sat right against the mist, where the Aether was most unstable.
Kael didn't grab his uniform. He grabbed his blade and the artifact.
I need to know, he thought, his eyes burning with a dark, violet light. If I'm a monster, I want to know whose cage I'm living in.
He slipped out the window, a shadow moving toward the glowing edge of the world.