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Chapter 39 – The Fractured Veil
Last Updated:
2025-03-11 23:18:45
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The shard of the Veil pulsed in Elior’s grip, cold and ancient, its silver veins flickering like distant lightning. His breath was still unsteady, the memory of the woman’s final words lingering in his mind."Find the ones who shattered it."His fingers curled around the fragment as if tightening his hold on it would somehow force the answer to reveal itself. But before he could process the weight of her warning, a sharp intake of breath from Myrra shattered the silence.Her golden eyes were fixed on something behind him.Elior turned and his blood ran cold.There, embedded in the earth, was Velibron.It was unmistakable. The obsidian-black blade, streaked with veins of silver light, hummed with power. The very same weapon he had wielded against the Veil. The very same weapon that should not exist anymore.Rael took a cautious step forward, his grip tightening on the hilt of his own sword. “That’s not possible,” he muttered.“It shattered,” Sienna said, her voice unusually quiet.Myrr
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The wind was different now.Elior couldn’t explain it, but something about the air felt thinner, stretched like fabric worn too far. He exhaled, steadying himself, the shard of the Veil cool against his palm.They had spent too long questioning the return of Velibron. There was only one truth now, someone had weakened the Veil long before Elior struck it down.And they needed to find out who.“We need to move,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “We won’t find answers standing here.”Myrra nodded. “Where do we even start?”Elior turned the shard over in his hand, watching the silver veins pulse faintly. “We follow the traces of the Veil itself.”Sienna’s brow furrowed. “The Veil is gone.”“Not entirely,” Rael said, understanding dawning in his expression. “If this fragment still exists, then remnants of the Veil’s energy might too.”Myrra’s golden eyes lit up with realization. “And if we track those remnants, they could lead us to the ones who started unraveling it.”Bram let out
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The weight of the Hollow Sanctum pressed down on them like a forgotten tomb. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, but beneath it, beneath the stillness, there was something else.A presence.Elior stood at the center of the chamber, his fingers tightening around the shard of the Veil. The power pulsing through it had led them here, but now that they had arrived, the path forward felt unclear.They had confirmed one truth: someone had been here before them.And whoever they were, they had taken something meant to remain hidden.Myrra knelt beside the pedestal, running her fingers over the deep grooves in the stone. “This wasn’t stolen in a hurry,” she murmured. “Whoever took it… they knew exactly what they were looking for.”Rael’s sharp gaze flicked toward the ground. “There are no footprints. No traces of movement. It’s like they walked through the dust without disturbing it.”Sienna exhaled, crossing her arms. “Or like they weren’t really here at all.”Bram scoffed. “
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The weight of Sienna’s words settled over Elior like a storm cloud, thick with the promise of something far worse than they had imagined. The Forgotten Hand. A name none of them knew, except for her.Elior took a slow breath, steadying himself. “Then tell me.”Sienna shook her head. “You don’t get it. There are things you don’t chase, Elior. Things you don’t dig up because you might not survive what you find.”His jaw tightened. “We don’t have the luxury of ignoring this.”Sienna let out a hollow laugh, void of humor. “You think you can fight them? You think they can be tracked down like any other enemy?” She stepped closer, voice lowering. “They don’t exist until they want to be seen. They don’t act until they’ve already won.”Elior refused to back down. “Then why are we still alive?”That gave her pause.Bram and Rael approached, their expressions dark with unspoken questions. Myrra lingered behind them, her golden eyes wary as she studied Sienna.“What now?” Bram asked. “Because I
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The ruins of Eldermoor trembled beneath them. Dust rained from the high stone vaults as a low, guttural rumble echoed through the underground archives, vibrating through Elior’s bones. Whatever had been disturbed, whatever had been named, was waking.“Move!” Elior barked.They turned and ran.The torches flickered violently, the air thickening with something unseen. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls, elongating, shifting. The deeper they had gone into the Obsidian Archives, the heavier the weight of the Veil’s remnants had pressed upon them. But now, it was lifting, like something had finally been let inside.Sienna ran ahead, her violet eyes wide, her breath sharp. She knew what was coming.Elior chased after her, the others close behind. The winding corridors of the archive twisted in unnatural ways, bookshelves seeming taller, the paths narrowing where they hadn’t before.“Something’s warping the space,” Myrra gasped, reaching out with her magic, her fingers glowing as
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The night was unnaturally quiet.Eldermoor’s ruins stretched around them, bathed in the silver glow of the twin moons. Crumbling walls stood like gravestones, remnants of a kingdom long forgotten. The air was thick with dust and the faint scent of damp stone, but the suffocating presence from below had not followed them.Not yet.Elior sat near the edge of a broken fountain, running his fingers over the jagged stone. His muscles still ached from the escape, and his mind hadn’t stopped racing since the moment they had surfaced. But there were no enemies here. No shifting shadows. No voices curling around his thoughts.For now, at least, they could breathe.Bram tossed a handful of firewood into the small pit they had made, his expression grim as he lit the flames. The fire crackled to life, its warmth chasing away the cold that clung to the ruins.No one spoke at first.The silence wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t empty either.Myrra sat with her back against a low wall, absently trac
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Elior stared into the flames, his thoughts tangled in the weight of what they had just uncovered. The Forgotten Hand had taken the key.Erythos, if that was truly the name of the shadowed figure, had seen him. And the Veil had not simply been shattered by his actions alone.But amidst all these revelations, something gnawed at the edge of his mind, a thread they had abandoned somewhere along the way. Myrra had spoken of starting with what they knew. Perhaps it was time to consider what they had chosen to forget.Sienna was the first to voice it."We keep chasing the next clue, the next piece of the puzzle," she murmured, her gaze locked onto the fire. "But why did we begin this journey in the first place?"The question lingered between them, heavy, unspoken. Elior looked up, finding his companions watching him now, waiting. The realization settled in his gut like a stone.Bram exhaled sharply. "The Crown."Silence stretched. It was the one truth they had never spoken of outright, the
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Chapter 47 – A King’s Forgotten WordsThe dawn light crept over the ruins, casting long shadows across the broken stone. Elior had not slept. None of them had. The weight of their conversation, of The Crown hidden within his cloak, still pressed against him like a silent demand.They needed answers.Myrra stirred first, rubbing at her eyes before looking at him. “You’re awake.”“I never slept,” Elior admitted.She nodded, as if she had expected as much. “Then let’s not waste time.”The others rose soon after, weary but resolute. They had decided: no more running, no more forgetting. The truth lay somewhere ahead, and they would find it.Sienna tightened the straps on her gauntlets, glancing at Elior. “Where do we start?”“The First King,” Elior said.Bram frowned. “He’s been dead for centuries.”“His words aren’t,” Myrra said.Rael nodded. “The Forgotten Hand knew something we didn’t. We’ve been chasing their trail, but if we look at this from the beginning, at what the First King lef
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Silence.Not the peaceful kind that follows a battle well won, nor the stillness of an early dawn. This was the silence of something broken, something vast and incomprehensible that had been ripped away, leaving only a hollow absence behind.The battlefield was unrecognizable. The ruins, once ancient and imposing, were reduced to charred fragments, their sacred stones blackened by the celestial fire that had consumed Erythos. The air was thick with the scent of ash and the lingering echoes of divine fury. Even the sky, once torn open by the god’s awakening, hung heavy with dark, unmoving clouds, as if the heavens themselves had yet to understand what had just transpired.Elior stood in the center of it all, his sword still clenched in his shaking hand. His body was battered, his limbs aching from wounds he had no memory of receiving. The weight of exhaustion settled over him like a crushing tide, but he could not move, not yet.Erythos was gone. Severed. Banished from the world foreve
