“The Veil does not separate worlds. It confuses them. In its cracks, the truth hides.”

  — Manuscripts of the Hollow Court

  Kael dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

  The rune on his arm still glowed blue, but now its lines spread like glowing veins, branching across his chest and shoulder, reaching his neck. The light pulsed with its own rhythm — alive. Nim reached him before he collapsed completely, gripping his shoulders to keep him upright.

  “You... awakened another fragment. That shouldn’t be possible,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

  Across the ruins of the shattered cabin, the huntress from the Secret Order rose slowly, staggering. Her mirrored mask was cracked, revealing part of a pale face. A golden eye — marked with a runic circle etched into the iris — stared at Kael with a mix of fascination and fear.

  “What kind of creature…” she began, but the words faded.

  Because in that instant, something else began to awaken.

  The ground trembled — not like an earthquake, but like the earth itself was... uneasy. A deep, almost imperceptible sound surfaced beneath their feet. It felt like the world was breathing. Then came the whispers.

  At first faint, like wind through stone cracks. But soon they became layered voices, speaking in forgotten tongues — or perhaps, memories. Words that weren’t meant to be heard.

  The forest darkened. The leaves turned gray. Shadows seemed to gain weight, to solidify. And for a moment, the sun vanished from the sky, as if wiped away by an invisible brush.

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  Kael tried to rise, using a broken beam for support, but the world spun around him like a spiral.

  “Nim… what’s… happening?”

  “The Veil is tearing,” she said, eyes wide. “You’ve torn the edge between the seen and the hidden. We’re being watched.”

  And then, they appeared.

  Between the warped trees and the thickened mist, shapes emerged. Faceless figures made of liquid shadow, their eyes burning like embers. They didn’t walk — they glided. They didn’t speak — they whispered. And their whispers were... memories.

  “They’re…” the huntress began, taking a step back. Fear laced her voice, something not even the Order’s training could suppress. “Aberrations of the Veil…”

  “Fragments,” Nim corrected sharply. “Echoes that slipped through the cracks. And they’re not here for me.”

  Kael, still trembling, turned.

  The creatures stood before him. Their blazing eyes fixed on him. But instead of attacking… they knelt.

  One, two, five… seven fragments bowed before him in silent reverence. The air grew heavier. One of them floated closer, its shape flowing like fabric underwater, and extended something like a hand — or a memory of one.

  It touched Kael’s chest, right over the rune.

  And then he saw.

  Visions consumed him. A field of floating stones beneath an inverted sky. A throne of bone wreathed in blue light. An army of shadows marching in silence. And above all, a tower piercing through the Veil — made of shattered mirrors and sealed doors.

  The pain returned — but so did something else: clarity.

  Kael collapsed backward, panting. When he opened his eyes, they shone with the same blue light pulsing from his rune.

  “They... know me,” he whispered. “Not as I am. But as I was.”

  Silence followed.

  Nim and the huntress stood still, stunned.

  “This isn’t ordinary magic,” the huntress muttered. “This is... primordial.”

  Nim turned to her.

  “Now you understand why he can’t be turned over to your Order.”

  The agent hesitated. She looked at Kael, then at the kneeling fragments.

  “If the Veil is breaking... then no Order will survive what’s coming.”

  Kael stood slowly, still unsteady, but on his feet.

  “I need to find the Tower of Echoes,” he said, as if reciting a memory long buried. “That’s where it began. That’s where the other fragments are.”

  The fragments’ eyes flared brighter — as if in agreement.