Liora stood on the edge of the great stone balcony, overlooking the ruins of the once-protected temple. The winds howled, carrying whispers of spirits who had crossed the Veil, their voices mournful yet full of fury.
Tonight, everything felt different.
Her connection to the bloodline ran deeper than she had imagined. The visions, the echoes, they were no longer just memories. They were her inheritance — and it was starting to change her, reshaping who she thought she was.
Seris approached from behind, her steps muffled by the thick mist rising from the cracked earth. Liora turned, and the dark circles under Seris' eyes told her everything she needed to know.
"You look like hell," Liora said, crossing her arms. "Have you been sleeping?"
Seris didn't answer immediately. Instead, she gazed at the horizon, her eyes searching for something in the dark. Something far out of reach.
"I keep seeing his face," Seris finally murmured. "Hale's. It's like he's still out there, haunting me."
Liora's jaw clenched, and the cold weight of regret settled over her chest.
"You can't keep carrying it. We all carry something, but we have to learn to put it down."
Seris turned her head, locking eyes with Liora.
"You think you've figured that out?" she asked softly.
Liora took a long breath, feeling the pull of something deeper than guilt — a gnawing emptiness. She had bound so many souls to herself, but the deeper she sank into this power, the more disconnected she felt from her humanity.
"I don't know," Liora admitted. "But I'm not running anymore."
Seris didn't speak again. Instead, she reached into the folds of her cloak and produced a small, weathered pouch — a pouch that rattled when she handed it over.
"What's this?" Liora asked, eyeing the pouch with suspicion.
Seris's lips twitched, her expression grave.
"A piece of the past," Seris said, her tone somber. "A relic of your true lineage. Your mother's bloodline is much older than you know. And it's much darker."
Liora hesitated, her fingers brushing the pouch. The weight inside it seemed almost too much to bear.
"What are you talking about? My mother's bloodline... what does that even mean?"
Seris paused, gathering her words carefully.
"You're not just Alric's heir. You're the descendant of the Veil-born. The bloodline of the ancients. Before Alric, before even the White Circle… there was your family. They were the true rulers, the keepers of the Veil."
Liora's heart skipped a beat. Her fingers tightened around the pouch.
"That's impossible."
Seris nodded slowly, as if she expected this reaction.
"I know. But it's true. The White Circle has tried for years to bury this truth. They killed your mother because they feared what she could awaken. And now…" She let the words linger, an unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air.
Liora's mind raced. Her heritage had always felt like an abstract concept, something whispered in old books and legends. But this? This was real. The truth was far darker than anything she'd imagined.
"And what do I do with this?" Liora asked, her voice barely a whisper. "What does this power mean for me?"
Seris' eyes softened for a moment, and for the first time, Liora saw the pain in her companion's gaze.
"It means everything. It means you're the last of your kind, the only one left who can unlock the truepower of the Veil. But it comes with a cost. You'll never be the same."
Liora clenched her fists, but the power surging inside her felt almost foreign now. It was still her — but not. There was something else beneath it. Something older. Something buried.
"And the White Circle?" Liora asked. "What are they doing with the power they've stolen?"
Seris' jaw tightened.
"They're trying to use it. They think they can control it. But the truth is, they don't understand it, and they never will. They're trying to forge something they have no business touching. And when that happens—" She paused, shaking her head. "—when that happens, the world will burn."
That night, Liora lay awake beneath the stars, the weight of everything pressing in on her chest. The relic Seris had given her now rested on her bedside table. She reached for it, running her fingers over the rough texture of the pouch.
With a snap, the string untied, and inside, there was a ring — an ancient gold band, adorned with a crimson stone that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
Liora's heart skipped. She had seen this before.
The bloodstone — a relic of her mother's.
Her mother.
The visions of her came rushing back. The woman in the mirror. The terrifying beauty of her face, the same eyes that stared back at Liora every time she looked into a reflection.
The bloodline of the Veil-born. The truth was clear now.
Liora's fingers shook as she slid the ring onto her finger.
A surge of power exploded through her chest, and a torrent of memories flooded her mind.
Flashbacks.
Her mother, kneeling before an altar bathed in white light, chanting in a language no one remembered.
A dark temple, a ceremony that ended in the sacrificial blood of an innocent child.
The screams of the Veil-born as they were torn apart, their power siphoned for the benefit of the White Circle.
And then… her.
Liora's mother, standing tall, a crown of fire on her head, a single blade of the Veil in her hand.
Her final words echoing in Liora's mind: "Save them all, my child. You are the only one who can stop them."
Liora gasped, the weight of her lineage pressing down on her like a thousand tons of stone. The bloodline was not just about power. It was about duty. A duty to protect the balance between the worlds of the living and the dead.
But that wasn't the hardest part.
The hardest part was what the White Circle would do to stop her.
The world was about to change, and Liora felt it — the storm that would break everything, shattering her and the world she knew. But one thing was certain: she would no longer run from her fate.
The Veil had called to her. And now, there was no turning back.