Chapter 6: Trust in Shadows
The glow of the Veil Fragment slowly faded, casting the chamber back into a hush broken only by the soft crackle of residual energy. The fragment's dual shards pulsed faintly in the hands of Seralyn and Kaela, twin heartbeats of something ancient something too large for either of them to fully understand.
Seralyn stared at Kaela.
The witch sat on the cold stone floor, shoulders shaking, the remnants of tears still glistening on her cheeks. Her fingers, smudged with ash and blood, clenched the fragment like it was the last anchor keeping her from floating into madness.
Seralyn's instincts warred. Her training told her to keep Kaela at sword's length. To treat weakness as danger. To distance herself from vulnerability. But something about Kaela's hunched posture, the haunted look in her golden eyes Seralyn found herself stepping forward.
She knelt.
No words.
She simply placed a gloved hand over Kaela's, grounding her.
Kaela flinched.
Her head turned slowly, disbelief written on every feature. "You…?"
Seralyn kept her gaze forward, toward the altar. "Don't make me regret it."
A beat passed.
Then Kaela gave a soft, hollow laugh. Not mocking this time. Not even amused. Just… tired.
"No promises," she whispered.
---
They camped just outside the temple's entrance, where the stone gave way to dark sand and sparse patches of brittle grass. The sun was setting behind a curtain of ash clouds, turning the sky rust-red and casting elongated shadows over the jagged rocks.
A small fire crackled between them. Kaela had conjured it with a flick of her fingers, a dull flame of deep blue that shimmered with unnatural calm. It burned low and hot, needing no fuel.
Seralyn sharpened her blades with slow, methodical strokes. The hiss of steel on whetstone filled the silence.
Kaela sipped from a canteen and broke the quiet. "You didn't ask what I saw. In there."
Seralyn paused. "Didn't need to. I heard enough."
Another silence. This one heavier.
"She was my mother," Kaela said. "A seer. Half-blood. Cursed by both courts. She tried to save me when the mob came. When the fires started."
Seralyn said nothing.
"She screamed for me to run. I didn't. I just... froze. I watched. And they made me watch. Then they chained me. Called it justice."
A gust of wind stirred the sand. The fire flickered.
"You survived," Seralyn said finally.
Kaela turned toward her. "So did you. And you still blame yourself. Why?"
Seralyn's jaw tensed. "Because I lived when others didn't."
Kaela studied her, expression unreadable. "Then we're not so different."
Seralyn met her gaze. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Kaela didn't look away this time. "Fear makes people do cruel things. But it also makes them brave. You chose to touch me back there. When you didn't have to."
"I still might regret it."
"Maybe. But it means something."
---
Night settled like a blanket of ink.
Kaela fell asleep first, curled beneath her travel cloak, the fragment resting against her chest. Her breathing steadied. Seralyn sat watch, blades sheathed, gaze turned skyward.
The stars here were dim. Pale echoes of the constellations she remembered from her homeland. Even the night seemed corrupted.
A soft breeze whispered through the rocks, carrying with it the scents of ash, old magic, and something sweetly rotten.
Seralyn's eyes drooped, exhaustion catching her by the throat. She leaned back against a slanted boulder, half-alert.
Hours passed.
Then came the whispering.
Seralyn stiffened.
It was faint like wind over glass, or voices submerged underwater. She rose silently, scanning the campsite.
Kaela.
The witch stirred in her sleep, murmuring in a language Seralyn didn't understand. Her hands moved with eerie grace, fingers weaving invisible threads through the air.
And the shadows responded.
They gathered around Kaela like loyal pets. They slithered from rocks, from the crevices in the earth, drawn to her like moths to flame.
"Kaela," Seralyn said quietly. No response.
Kaela's eyes remained closed, her mouth whispering in that same strange tongue. The sigil on her hand glowed a dark, wine-red hue.
A shadow detached from the firelight and twisted into the vague shape of a human.
It stood across from Seralyn. Its form flickered a woman's outline, sharp and regal, but indistinct, like smoke in water.
It spoke.
Through Kaela's voice.
"One must die for the world to live."
Seralyn rose slowly, her hand drifting toward the hilt of her sword.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
Kaela's mouth moved again. The shadow replied, "A remnant. A whisper. A truth forgotten. I speak what has already been woven."
The sigil on Kaela's palm pulsed.
Seralyn's pulse thundered in her ears. "What do you mean one must die?"
The shadow tilted its head. "Two marked. One flame. One blade. One path sealed. One must fall. Only then may the Veil be restored."
"No," Seralyn said, stepping between Kaela and the shadow. "We fight together. We live together."
The shadow began to fade.
But before it vanished, it whispered again: "You will choose. And the world will burn or bloom from that choice."
Then silence.
Kaela collapsed, her body going limp, the sigil on her hand dimming.
Seralyn caught her before she hit the ground.
Her heart pounded as she laid Kaela down gently. The witch's face was peaceful again, sweat lining her brow.
Seralyn looked at her own hand.
The sigil pulsed once.
Faintly.
Warning.