Chapter Six: Veilrend's Song
The darkness didn't feel empty.
It listened.
Kael stood in the silence beneath Hollowthorn, the sword Veilrend cradled in his hands. It was heavier than it looked—not in weight, but in memory. He felt it singing beneath his skin, the low hum of something old and powerful, layered with grief.
His fingers brushed the hilt.
A vision struck.
He stood in a field of ash and fire. Corpses of giants lay twisted among the ruins of glass cities. Above him, stars fell like burning feathers. At the center of the field, Veilrend glowed in the hand of another—a woman, armored in thornsteel, her face hidden by a wolf's helm. She raised the blade and spoke a name:
"Ashren."
The vision broke. Kael staggered, clutching the sword tight, breath ragged. That wasn't a memory from his life. But it belonged to him all the same.
Something shifted in the crypt.
From the walls, runes flared to life. Not red this time—but white. Pure. Cleansing. The chamber began to rise, as if lifted by unseen roots. It moved slowly, and Kael realized—it wasn't the crypt rising.
The forest was lowering.
Stone gave way to light. As the crypt opened to the surface once more, the trees around him bent inwards, forming a circle of silence and reverence. The air vibrated with the presence of old magic.
And then—she stepped forward.
Not the Pale Eye. Not a vision. A woman. Real. Alive.
She wore robes of moss and starlight, a circlet of silver woven with antler branches. Her skin was the color of riverstone, her eyes glowing softly gold.
"You hold the sword of the Hollow Pact," she said, voice like wind through reeds. "The blade that cut the veil between worlds. Do you even know what that means?"
Kael stared, sword held low. "Not yet."
She studied him with ancient eyes. "You are too young. Too fractured. You carry your name like a wound, not a crown." She paused. "But the forest recognizes you. And so… I will guide you."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"I am Ylsa," she said. "The last of the Starbinders. Keeper of the Third Oath. Guardian of the Path of Ash."
She stepped closer. "You may be the heir. But without me, you will die before the first gate opens."
Kael lifted Veilrend slightly. "So help me."
She smiled—not kindly, but approvingly. "Then prepare, Ashren. For the Pale Eye stirs. The Hollowed Ones rise. And Veilrend is hungry."
Lightning cracked across the sky—though there were no clouds. Just a tear, high above, jagged and wrong. Through it, something looked down.
The first gate had opened.