The Veilstorm hit by noon.
It didn't roll in. It snapped, like a trap closing over the world. One second, Kaelen stood under clear skies. The next, wind howled sideways, and the ground groaned like it wanted to split open.
He didn't flinch.
He saw it coming before the others did.
Color tore from the sky in ribbons. The light bent wrong — too sharp, too clean. Shadows danced on their own, stretching in directions that didn't match the sun.
Yreya cursed under her breath. "This isn't normal."
Bren grabbed her shoulder and pointed. "There—look!"
In the eye of the storm stood a building. Or what was left of one — a temple swallowed by the Veil, twisted into impossible geometry. Walls looped in on themselves, archways opened to sky, stairs climbed nowhere.
Kaelen took a step forward. The shards under his skin flared in response.
Yreya called after him, "Kael! You can't just—"
"I have to," he said. "It's not pulling me in. It's... welcoming me."
Crossing the storm's threshold felt like stepping into a scream.
The world lost color. Every sound was muffled, like he was underwater. The only thing he could hear clearly was his own heartbeat — and beneath it, a second one, slower, ancient.
Ashra's?
His?
Something else?
The temple pulsed with shifting reality. Every time Kaelen blinked, the structure changed. Walls melted into vines. Statues bled light. The floors whispered in a language he almost understood.
He wasn't walking through a building.
He was walking through a memory.
At the center of the temple was an altar of boneglass. Five shards were set in a circle — glowing softly, humming in resonance with the ones in Kaelen's body.
But the sixth spot — the center — was empty.
Yreya stepped up beside him. "This is where she broke it, isn't it?"
Kaelen nodded.
"Ashra opened the Veil here."
Bren scanned the room. "Then where's the last shard?"
Kaelen looked down at his hands.
And for the first time, he realized something awful.
"I don't think there is a last shard," he said. "I think... I'm the last shard."
Silence.
No one moved.
Then the air behind them tore open.
Not a Veilstorm. Not magic.
A voice.
A choir.
"You finally see it."
Dozens of Hollow Choir members stepped into the temple, masks grinning wide, bonecloth robes fluttering with the storm wind.
"You are not her heir. You are her mirror. Her echo. Her return."
Yreya moved between them and Kaelen. Bren drew his blade.
But Kaelen didn't run.
Because the shards weren't burning anymore.
They were waiting.
He could feel the altar responding.
Calling.
And for the first time, he didn't feel fear.
He felt clarity.
He raised his hand.
And the temple responded.
Light erupted.
Not white.
Not gold.
But pure Veil.
The storm outside collapsed in on itself.
When the light faded, the temple was empty.
No Choir.
No storm.
Just Kaelen, on his knees, breathing hard, his eyes glowing with runes.
And somewhere behind them — a door had opened.
Not into another place.
Into another Kaelen.