They left the Hollow Accord before dawn, wrapped in silence and ash. The mountain gave no farewell. The gates closed behind them with a sigh, sealing away old vows and memories like breath held too long. But Lucian didn't look back.
The fourth shard was warm against his chest, pulsing faintly in rhythm with his heartbeat. Four of the Seven. More than halfway. But with each one, the weight grew heavier, not lighter.
Beside him, Laila walked with her hood drawn low, her thoughts somewhere far away. The moment they passed beyond the reach of the Accord's mist, she finally spoke.
"We're being followed."
Lucian didn't hesitate. "How long?"
"Since before we entered the Vault. I thought it was just the Accord testing us again. But it's something else now."
Lucian nodded. "I'll draw them out."
"No," she said. "We'll draw them out together."
They made camp in a clearing at the edge of a half-dead forest where the trees looked like they'd been burned from the inside. The sky was cloudless—too cloudless, like it had been wiped clean by an invisible hand.
Lucian pretended to sleep, breathing evenly, one hand close to his dagger. Laila sat beside the dying fire, humming a soft tune from their childhood—an old lullaby Elina used to sing.
Then the air changed.
The hairs on Lucian's arms stood up.
He opened his eyes.
A figure stood just beyond the edge of the firelight, cloaked in black.
Unmoving.
Watching.
Laila rose slowly. "You followed us through a cursed monastery. Either you're brave, foolish, or both."
The figure stepped forward—and removed their hood.
Lucian blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."
It was Cassien.
His brother's old friend. One of Hades' inner circle—long thought to be gone after the split in the family, after the banishment.
"I'm not here to fight," Cassien said, his voice calm but strained. "I came to warn you."
Lucian rose, hand still on his blade. "You've got ten seconds."
Cassien raised his hands. "Hades is moving. Faster than you know. He's already claimed the fifth shard."
Laila's heart sank. "Where?"
"Araskel. The ruins beneath the sea cliffs."
Lucian cursed. "That's weeks away—"
"He has a gatewalker now," Cassien interrupted. "A blood mage from the Deep Colonies. They don't need roads."
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Why tell us this? You were loyal to him once."
"I still am, in a way," Cassien admitted. "But I've seen what's left of him. He doesn't want power anymore. He wants oblivion. He thinks if he gathers all seven shards, he can undo it all—rip the Veil wide open. Burn the world down and start again."
Laila's voice was low. "And you don't agree."
"I used to," Cassien said. "Until I saw what it cost."
He removed a small, curved blade from his coat and laid it at their feet. Its edge shimmered with strange red runes.
"He gave me that. Said if you ever got close, I should cut your throat in your sleep." He looked at Lucian. "I couldn't."
Lucian studied him. "What do you want from us?"
Cassien didn't blink. "When the final shard is found… you'll need someone who knows the Old Ways. The rituals. The anchoring rites. Hades will twist the shards into something monstrous. But they were meant for healing. Binding. Balance."
Lucian didn't move. "You'll have to earn our trust."
Cassien gave a bitter smile. "Fair enough."
Laila exchanged a look with her brother. "We don't have a choice, Lucian. If Hades is ahead of us, we need to move. Fast."
Cassien nodded. "There's a shortcut."
🜂
The shortcut was a shattered ley-path buried beneath the forest—an old transit artery from before the Sundering, when mages had traveled via stabilized currents of elemental force. It was damaged, erratic, and extremely dangerous.
Cassien showed them the entrance: a stone arch half-buried in vines and moss. The glyphs on it flickered dimly, as if remembering their purpose.
"You've done this before?" Laila asked.
Cassien shrugged. "Twice. I came out the wrong gender one time. But I got better."
Lucian gave him a look. "Not helping."
They stepped through together.
🜂
It was like falling through a kaleidoscope made of memory and light.
Lucian saw flashes of their childhood—Tista laughing in the garden, Elina holding him after a fever, the night sky on the roof when he'd first felt magic stir in his bones.
Then the images shattered—and he landed hard on damp stone.
Laila groaned beside him, rubbing her ribs. Cassien emerged last, coughing up sea brine.
They had arrived.
🜂
Araskel was not a city. It was a graveyard built like a cathedral.
Ruined spires jutted from the cliffs like broken fingers. Waves smashed endlessly against black rock. And at the edge of it all stood a tower made of salt-stone and coral, half-fallen into the sea.
Cassien pointed. "The shard's in there. In the Chamber of Echoes. But you won't be alone."
They weren't.
Lucian sensed it the moment they stepped into the lower halls—presence. Pressure. The echo of Hades' power. The air shimmered with heat and shadow.
Then they heard a voice.
"I wondered when you'd catch up."
Hades stood at the far end of the chamber, his hand resting lightly on the fifth shard, which floated above a stone pedestal. His eyes glowed gold.
Laila stepped forward. "You don't have to do this."
"Oh, but I do," Hades said, smiling faintly. "I saw what's coming. The Veil cracks wider every day. The world doesn't need saving—it needs rewriting."
Lucian's voice was firm. "You'll tear it apart."
"Maybe," Hades said. "But at least I'll be the one holding the pen."
Then he turned—and vanished into flame.
The shard dropped.
Lucian sprinted forward, catching it just before it hit the floor.
Cassien swore. "It was a projection."
"He wanted us to follow," Laila said.
Lucian clutched the fifth shard, eyes narrow. "He's baiting us. Drawing us toward the sixth."
Cassien looked between them. "Then let's not disappoint him."
Outside, the sea screamed against the rocks.
And the race for the final shards began.