She didn't wait to be invited in.
The girl stepped past Elior like she'd lived there her whole life.
Dripping rain on his floor. Leaving cold wind in her wake.
"Shut the door," she said. "Before something follows me in."
He obeyed.
Then silence.
She scanned the apartment—Codex, journal, the still-burned candle wax on the table. She gave a slight nod.
"You're ahead of schedule," she muttered. "That's not good."
Elior's voice was quiet, cautious.
"Who are you?"
She pulled back the hood. Her hair was short, damp, streaked with copper. A scar cut through her left eyebrow. Her eyes—silver-gray, too sharp to belong to anyone normal.
"My name's Mira. I'm a First Ring guide. Assigned to this sector."
"Assigned… by who?"
Mira gave a dry smile.
"You think you're the first one to stumble into this?"
She sat, uninvited.
"There are others like you. Like me. We're called Ringbearers. Most people never awaken a single ring. Some… stumble into it by accident. Like you did. Others are born into it."
She tapped the journal.
"That book belonged to someone in our network. Went dark two months ago. Guess we know where it ended up."
Elior frowned. "What is this… network?"
Mira's tone shifted—serious now.
"We're the ones who survived the first ring without going insane. We call ourselves The Veiled. Not an organization, not really. Just… survivors. We track new awakenings, try to keep them alive. Before others find them."
He hesitated.
"Others?"
Her jaw tightened.
"Let's just say… not everyone who bears the rings is human anymore."
She stood and walked to the window, drawing a symbol on the glass with her finger—three circles, intersecting.
"When you opened your First Ring, you lit a beacon. That mark on your palm? It pulses. Every Veiled within fifty miles knows where you are now. So do the predators."
"Predators?"
"Failed Ringbearers. Or worse—those who ate their flames instead of balancing them."
She turned.
"You've got a week—maybe less—before something comes knocking."
Elior absorbed the words like ice water.
He had wanted truth. Now he had it.
A secret world. A countdown.
And a girl with storm in her eyes and rings on her arm.
"You came to help?" he asked.
She paused.
"I came to test you."
"What kind of test?"
Mira tossed him a small black stone, inscribed with a pulsing glyph.
It burned cold in his hand.
"If the First Ring is sight…"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"...let's see what you do when it shows you the truth."