Velastra didn't stopped begging.
She remained curled in the shadows of the ritual chamber, knees drawn to her chest, her hands wrapped tightly around the sacred candle whose flame flickered in rhythm with her shattered heart. Orion's soul glowed faintly within the blue fire, pulsing like a slow drumbeat—one last tether to warmth in a world losing shape. But the weight of Cael's absence pressed heavier than any blade. She whispered his name into the darkness again and again, until it became the only sound she could still hear.
The chamber had been quiet for hours, broken only by the flicker of runes etched into stone. She remembered them all—how Cael used to trace those same symbols when he couldn't sleep. One by one, she ran her fingers over the carvings.
At dawn, she stood.
Orren and the twenty-five Soul-Watchers stood waiting in the inner circle. Their expressions were solemn, unreadable—immortals in mortal robes. The candle's flame guttered as Velastra approached, barely clinging to blue.
"I have to go back," she said, voice raw from endless grief. "There has to be a way."
Silence greeted her.
Then Orren stepped forward, his face carved from sorrow and wisdom, his hands folded tightly behind his back.
"The Rite of the Candle can be performed only once in a lifetime," he said quietly. "Even for one like you."
"But Cael—"
"Didn't want to go back," said Kaeth, her grandmother, stepping beside her husband. Her voice was firm but not cruel. "His soul did not answer the call. That is not your failure, child."
Velastra lowered her gaze. The flame danced weakly in her grip, casting trembling shadows on the Watchers' faces.
"Then let me try again," she begged. "Let me try until he does. Until the flame opens. Until he answers me."
A ripple passed through the circle—silent and unseen, a shift in air and memory. The Watchers looked at each other. There was no spoken exchange, only the hum of shared consequence. Velastra could feel it pulsing just behind her heartbeat: the price, the weight, the violation.
Orren turned toward them. "If the circle wills it…"
Suddenly, Orren was interupted.
Urgata, the Star Reader, placed a fragment of obsidian into the center and whispered her silent invocation.
Then, one by one, they stepped forward.
Vaelen, the Memory Binder, raised her arms and summoned threads of forgotten light.
Velastra saw Kaeth pause, hesitant. She waited. At last, the Last Bell knelt beside her.
"To attempt this again is to tear open the bridge between worlds," Kaeth warned. "It is a violence against the laws of return."
"Ash-Sheer, please tear them," Velastra said. Her voice did not falter.
Kaeth closed her eyes, then nodded. "Seven times. No more."
The ritual circle expanded, twin rings glowing like a wound re-opening. The flame in Velastra's hand flickered once, then steadied. And so they began.
---
The first attempt failed quickly.
The candle flared violet, then collapsed inward. Velastra's body gave way beneath it, her chest seizing as she fell to the cold stone. Orren carried her back, whispered prayers into her hair, but she barely heard them.
The second time, her blood ran cold. She opened the gate but the realm of Sainara did not receive her. It repelled her like a misaligned key. Even Orion's light dimmed, as if unwilling to watch.
The third time, she felt halfway between light and silence, drifting through a place unanchored by time. Other souls passed her: quiet, distant echoes. None was Cael. But it is not Sainara.
The fourth time, she reached out and found nothing but pain. The flame in her hand seared her fingers. Her tears turned to steam, leaving red streaks on her cheeks.
The fifth time, the ritual circle itself cracked at the edge. The symbols carved into the stone began to pulse angrily, and Thessa, the Flame Archivist, faltered mid-chant. Urgata's voice grew strained, as if it were being pulled through water.
The sixth time, Kaeth fell to one knee, her body trembling as her voice broke against the rising tide. Velastra clutched the candle tighter, despite the shaking in her own arms.
It's already the seventh.
It's her last chance.
---
When the seventh invocation began, the Watchers no longer sounded like themselves. Their voices wavered, out of sync—some too high, others impossibly low. Their forms shimmered, as though the world could no longer hold them. Velastra, ragged and hollow, stepped into the circle again. The candle rose. Her fingers bled.
She was able to enter Sainara for the seventh time.
The air was hollow. The realm was darker now, shadows frayed at the edges. The lights of other souls flickered madly, agitated by the disruption. Her arrival was a rupture. Even Orion dimmed, as if ashamed to be a part of it.
She was about to call again.
But Sainara... trembled, pushing her away again.
She knelt within the nothing and pressed her palm to the flame.
"Please," she whispered.
Yet, still the flame twisted. Not toward a soul—but backward.
Back toward the ritual circle.
Back to Orren.
Back to the Soul-Watchers.
Velastra screamed as she was torn from Sainara without warning. Her body collided with the floor. The circle was in chaos.
Light burst from the Watchers' bodies in shards. One cried out—blood pouring from his eyes, staining the ritual threads.
Another collapsed, clutching her chest, the veins in her hands turning black.
Kaeth screamed and turned toward Velastra, her face hollowed by pain. "The veil—it's breaking—"
Velastra crawled back, reaching for the candle, now flaming red. "No—what's happening?"
Orren shouted, "Close the gate!"
But it was too late.
The voice came then—not from above, nor from the chamber, but from the ruptured edge of Sainara. It tore through the air with prophecy and finality.
Cael.
But this voice did not soothe. It struck the heart like a blade of ice.
"Stop, or they will all die."
The circle trembled.
Velastra rose, barely able to stand. "Cael—"
"Your Highness, please stop."
The flame roared—brilliant red, blinding, pulsing like a heart caught in rage.
And then the sky turned.
Where the sun had risen, a red moon bloomed, blood-bright and swollen. It hovered above the ritual site like an omen long buried. The old runes blazed white-hot.
Velastra went shattered entirely.
Kaeth collapsed. Orren clutched her to his chest. Screams echoed beyond the chamber walls.
Then, silent but aching, Velastra cried.