The wind howled as Aelric led the group through the gnarled treeline of the Frost Hollow, snow crunching beneath hurried footsteps.
Behind them, the Crimson Shade camp burned.
The flames painted the twisted forest in hues of orange and red, smoke spiraling toward the black sky. Hollowborn screeches echoed faintly, distant now—but the weight of pursuit clung to their heels.
Aelric's hand tightened around the Shard of the Veil, now bound to his System, pulsing faintly against his palm like a living thing. It thrummed with alien energy, restrained only by his will—and the System's anchor.
Beside him, Rhea kept pace, one arm steadying the rescued boy, Davin, the other ready at her dagger. The other two rescued captives followed close, their wide eyes darting nervously through the dark.
The forest itself seemed to watch. Shadows twitched at the edges of their vision.
"Aelric," Rhea whispered, voice tight, "how far—"
"Not far enough."
Aelric's System pulsed softly, calculating distance, threats, terrain.
[Immediate Pursuit Probability: Low][Residual Hollowborn Activity: Moderate][System Interference: Minimal, but…]
The message trailed off, the final line unspoken but understood.
The Veiled One's gaze lingered still.
The entity hadn't followed physically—but the mark of their encounter remained. The artifact had drawn its attention. Aelric had defied its influence, for now—but defiance painted targets.
He could feel it in the way the air resisted their movements. In the faint, unspoken dread curling beneath his skin.
But fear was irrelevant. They had survived. For now.
"Here." Aelric stopped near a jagged outcropping of stone—a hidden alcove partially buried beneath snow and bramble. He brushed aside the foliage, revealing a faintly glowing rune etched into the rock.
An emergency shelter sigil. Left by the Thornwatch scouts who patrolled these wilds. He'd seen them used before.
The group slipped inside, the cramped space barely large enough for them to huddle together. It wasn't comfort. It was survival.
As the others caught their breath, Aelric remained at the entrance, eyes on the darkened treeline. His mind raced.
Selene would recover. The Covenant wouldn't forget this humiliation. And the Veiled One… it was patient. It had eternity to watch him.
But so did he.
The Shard's power coiled within him, dangerous, tempting. But it was his. He would master it. Bend it to his will.
Weak to strong. Mortal to more.
It had begun.
Behind him, Rhea approached, eyes studying him with quiet concern. "You're… different," she observed softly.
Aelric met her gaze, and for a moment, the hardened cunning melted away, replaced by quiet affection—the same loyalty, the same protectiveness that had carried him this far.
"I have to be," he admitted. "If I want to protect them. You."
Rhea's expression softened—but her eyes never wavered. She saw the changes. The risks. But she trusted him.
And he would not fail her.
Not to fate. Not to gods.Not to the Veiled One.
...
The shelter was small, but it provided safety. For now.
The rescued children huddled together near the rear wall, their fear slowly giving way to exhaustion. Rhea sat close, whispering quiet reassurances, her blade within easy reach.
Aelric stood apart, his back pressed to the cold stone, eyes closed, breath steady. Outwardly calm. Inwardly… fractured.
The Shard pulsed faintly in his palm, warmth and wrongness coiled together. Even bound to his System, even subdued for now, it was alive—aware.
His System tried to quarantine its influence:
[Shard of the Veil: Contained — 82% Stability][Corruption Bleed: Minimal — Symptoms Likely to Emerge][System Recommendation: Caution]
Aelric opened his eyes. His reflection shimmered faintly in the frozen surface of a nearby rock pool. At first glance, nothing had changed.
But beneath the surface, he could feel it. His heartbeat irregular. His pupils faintly dilated. The edges of his vision… wrong, sometimes.
And the whispers. Always just beyond hearing. Faint. Patient. Waiting.
It wasn't possession. Not yet. But it was a scar. A mark left by the Veiled One's touch. Power never came freely.
Aelric flexed his fingers, drawing the System interface up once more, reviewing data. His skills had grown. His strength was evolving. The path from weak to strong was opening rapidly now.
But so was the chasm beneath his feet. One misstep… and he'd fall.
"Aelric?"
Rhea's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She approached, quiet concern softening her usual edge.
"You've barely spoken." Her gaze dipped to the faint shimmer of the Shard at his side. "Is it that bad?"
Aelric considered lying. But Rhea wasn't a fool. And neither was he.
"It's… manageable." His voice was low, honest. "For now. But it's not clean power. There's a price."
She frowned, jaw tightening, but didn't argue. "You always said you'd be careful."
"I am." His eyes darkened slightly, that familiar cunning returning. "But I won't be weak. Not anymore. Not for them. Not for the gods. Not for the Veiled One."
Rhea studied him for a long moment. "And for us?"
Aelric's hardened expression softened just a fraction. His hand found hers—calloused, rough from training, but steady. Warm.
"For you," he promised. "Always."
It wasn't just words. It was anchor. Reminder. The weight of why he fought, why he bled, why he embraced risks others would flee from.
The Veiled One watched. The Covenant would hunt them. The Shard whispered promises in the quiet.
But Aelric still chose defiance.
And he would carve strength from the consequences.