The return from the Veil was not a step—it was a rending.
Liora stumbled as she emerged through the threshold, her knees hitting the earth of the ravine with a jolt. The world she'd left behind—Poland's dark forest, the scent of pine, the iron weight of dusk—now felt dim and distant. The colors were flatter. The sounds quieter. As if reality itself struggled to contain what she had become.
The fragment still pulsed inside her, a beacon of ancient power buried beneath her ribs.
Jaeyun knelt beside her. "Liora?"
She looked up at him, her eyes no longer the same. They shimmered faintly with iridescent light, veil-touched. Beyond-human.
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice was hoarse. "But something's changed. I saw her, Jaeyun. I saw Eliara. I was her, for a moment."
He helped her to her feet, but his hands lingered on her arms, as if unsure whether she was still fully herself. "The fragment bonded with you."
"Yes," she nodded slowly. "And it's… more than just knowledge. It's a piece of the veil itself. I can feel it watching everything around me—trees, stone, you."
He pulled back slightly at that.
"I won't lose control," she added quickly. "But I think that's what the Court wants—to use the fragment's vision to find where the veil is weakest. If they can't tear it open… they'll rot it from within."
Jaeyun's jaw clenched. "Then we can't stay here."
They moved quickly through the woods, Jaeyun guiding them toward a hidden trail deeper into the Świętokrzyskie Mountains. The air had changed—charged with tension, like a storm held just out of reach. As they passed through an ancient clearing filled with standing stones, Liora paused.
There were carvings—old ones, nearly eroded by time. But the moment she looked at them, the language reassembled itself in her mind.
> To awaken the veilborn is to call the forgotten back to flesh.
One will rise. One will fall. And one will betray.
She didn't speak the words aloud.
Jaeyun turned. "What is it?"
"Prophecy," she murmured. "One I wasn't ready to understand until now."
They arrived at a secluded shrine before nightfall. It was ancient, made of blackened wood and moss-covered stone, hidden behind a waterfall. Jaeyun had used it before—when he was still with the Sentinels.
Inside, they found quiet. Firelight. Safety, for a moment.
Liora sat near the hearth, staring at the flickering flames. Jaeyun handed her a bowl of broth but didn't speak. He knew the silence she needed.
But it didn't last.
The moment Liora closed her eyes, the veil pulsed—and the vision came.
She stood in a city of glass towers, burning. Shadows writhed across the skyline, swallowing light, language, and time. At the center of the chaos stood a figure cloaked in red and black, mask cracked—the High Marked who had threatened her in the chamber—holding something in his hands.
Her heart.
Not metaphorically. Literally. Glowing. Fragmented. Crying out.
She woke with a start, gasping.
Jaeyun was instantly at her side. "What did you see?"
"The future," she whispered. "Or a future. A warning."
She stood, the firelight catching on the silver veins now appearing beneath her skin—like the weave of the veil rewriting her body.
"I think… they're coming."
He nodded once. "Then we'll be ready."
But as she turned away, she didn't see the shadow that detached from the wall, eyes gleaming.
Someone was listening.
And betrayal was closer than she thought.
The shadow moved as shadows do—unseen, unbothered by light.
It watched from the rafters of the shrine, high above the warmth of the fire where Liora and Jaeyun rested. It had no shape of its own, no face, no name. It was sent—by the Court, by the Will of the Broken Mask—to observe, report, and, if possible, to fracture.
Liora stirred again, restless.
The power inside her had not settled. The fragment fused into her soul was still awakening, still reaching into corners of her mind she hadn't realized were closed. Memories she never lived. Dreams not her own. Her sense of self was stretched thin, like thread pulled across a frame.
She stepped outside.
The moon was waning, veiled behind shifting clouds. Cold wind bit her face, but she welcomed it—anything to clear the buzzing in her head.
Jaeyun joined her a moment later, his coat drawn tightly. "You haven't slept."
"I can't. It's not just nightmares. The veil is active in me now. It's… alive."
He didn't argue. Instead, he handed her a folded piece of parchment. "A contact from Kraków left this for me three nights ago. I didn't want to distract you before the chamber, but… you should see it now."
Liora unfolded it carefully.
It was a map—hand-sketched, annotated with symbols she hadn't seen in years. A spiral rune in the bottom corner identified it as crafted by veilcasters, an ancient order of magic-wielders wiped out by the Shadow Court generations ago. Her mother had mentioned them, once.
In the center of the map, circled in red ink: Wronki Fortress.
Beneath it, scrawled hastily in Polish:
> "One piece remains. They know. Move swiftly, or lose everything."
Liora's breath caught.
"A second fragment," she whispered.
Jaeyun nodded grimly. "And if they get it before we do…"
"They won't just rot the veil," she finished. "They'll rebuild it. Their way."
That was when the shrine shook.
Not a tremor—an attack.
The walls buckled with a sudden blast of force, and an eerie wind screamed through the clearing. The fire inside flickered wildly, and then—
A figure appeared at the edge of the trees.
Not the High Marked. Worse.
This one wore no mask. His face was human—young, with sharp features and pale eyes that seemed hollowed out. His robes were stitched with bone thread, and his hands bled from between the fingers, a sure sign of a Binder. A Court sorcerer trained to manipulate the seams of magic—and pain.
"I found you," he said softly, almost sadly. "I really hoped I wouldn't have to."
Liora stepped in front of Jaeyun instinctively. "You followed us."
"No," the Binder said. "I was sent. By someone who knows your path. And she's watching, even now."
Liora's pulse froze. "She?"
He smiled. "Your blood speaks, veilborn. Your mother still echoes in you. And the Court is very interested in what she left behind."
Liora clenched her fists. "She gave her life to stop you."
"No," the Binder said gently. "She traded it. And we're here to collect."
Without warning, he struck.
Threads of shadow whipped through the air—dozens of them—targeting her and Jaeyun with vicious precision. Jaeyun parried two with a burst of kinetic force, but the third caught him across the shoulder, slamming him into the shrine wall.
Liora didn't hesitate.
She reached for the fragment inside her, and it answered like fire to dry leaves. The runes on her skin glowed as she thrust both hands forward, not with brute force—but clarity. Light wove from her fingertips, unraveling the shadow threads mid-flight, turning them to dust.
The Binder hissed, retreating.
But not far.
"I see it now," he whispered. "You're already changing. Soon you won't know where the veil ends and you begin."
"I'll never be like you," Liora snarled.
"Everyone says that," he smiled. "Until the choice becomes survival."
And with that, he vanished in a burst of ash and bone, leaving behind a smoldering scar in the ground.
Jaeyun groaned, pulling himself up. "They're escalating."
Liora helped him stand. "Because we're getting closer. The second fragment… Wronki Fortress. We move tonight."
He nodded.
But as they gathered their things and prepared to leave, the shadow that had hidden above the rafters moved again.
Not gone.
Just… waiting.