Way'Lee took an involuntary step back. Orven's gaze—once filled with wisdom and exhaustion—was now a void, ink-black and shifting. His shadow pulsed unnaturally, stretching and curling along the stone floor like living tendrils.
"You should not have returned," he said.
The voice was his. And yet, it wasn't. It layered upon itself, echoes of other voices bleeding through—some familiar, some ancient.
Way'Lee's fingers twitched toward the dagger at her hip. "Orven, if you're still in there, fight this."
A slow, deliberate smile spread across his lips. "Fight?" A whisper of amusement slithered through the air. "Way'Lee, dear child… I am this."
The shadows surged.
Way'Lee barely leapt aside as darkness snapped toward her like a striking serpent, splintering the wooden table where she'd stood. Orven didn't move, but his shadow did—spreading outward like a tide, reaching for her.
She turned and ran.
The Weight of the Unseen
The corridors blurred as she fled, the whispering presence of unseen things brushing against her mind. But something else gnawed at her thoughts—something she had tried to ignore since waking.
A heaviness.
Not just exhaustion, not just the toll of whatever had pulled her between worlds.
Her body felt different. Off-balance. A strange, unfamiliar tightness in her lower abdomen, a lingering warmth beneath her ribs. The sensation wasn't pain. It was something deeper.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, breath catching.
No. Not now. Not when everything was unraveling.
But she knew.
Something inside her had changed.
And if the Veil had touched her in ways she didn't understand—what had it touched within them?
A Fading Sanctuary
She didn't stop running until she reached the eastern wing of the palace—where the war room had once stood. If there were survivors, they would have barricaded themselves somewhere.
She threw open the heavy doors—only to find another absence.
Chairs were overturned. Maps lay scattered across the stone floor, ink smeared as if someone had left in haste. The scent of burnt parchment hung in the air.
But no bodies.
Something about that was worse than seeing the dead.
Her breath came ragged as she braced herself against the table. Every muscle in her body screamed for rest, but she couldn't.
Not yet.
A whisper slid against her ear.
"Not alone."
Way'Lee spun—dagger raised.
A figure stood in the doorway.
Not a shadow. Not a monster.
But neither entirely human.