The moment the teleportation light faded, Ariv opened his eyes—and his breath caught in his throat.
Before him stretched a realm unlike anything mortal eyes were meant to see. The ground wasn't soil but shimmering glass laced with silver veins. Streams of liquid light flowed on both sides, casting hues of blue and violet across golden bridges that floated without any visible support. Temples rose into the heavens, their pillars carved with symbols that pulsed like living runes. Above, the sky wasn't static—it moved, constellations shifting like an orchestra of stars dancing to an eternal rhythm. Bells chimed faintly in the distance, though no one could see where the sound came from.
"This… is Aethrion?" Vaishnavi whispered, her voice trembling between awe and disbelief.
Ariv didn't answer. His eyes darted everywhere, trying to take in the impossible beauty. For a brief moment, the Galaxy Zenith symbol on his back pulsed, hidden under his clothes, as if this place recognized him. A hum echoed in his ears—not from outside, but from within.
Neel stood silently, eyes fixed on the glowing river. His fingers twitched slightly, as if absorbing some energy from the air. Rudraen, walking ahead with his usual calm, finally spoke.
"Welcome," he said, his deep voice breaking the spell of silence. "To Aethrion—the Realm of the Creator."
They began to walk across a golden bridge stretching toward the largest structure in sight: a towering citadel carved from crystal and gold, floating above a circular pool of silver liquid. Its spires pierced the clouds, and symbols rotated slowly around its highest point.
"What… is this place really?" Rohit muttered, still trying to steady his breath.
"This," Rudraen replied without turning, "is the foundation of existence. Every Veil, every soul, every thread of creation is tied here. When balance shatters, Aethrion trembles."
Vaishnavi frowned. "Balance? You mean… the attacks?"
Rudraen stopped at the edge of the bridge, turning toward them. His crimson cloak shimmered under the golden light. "Not just attacks. Something greater." His eyes shifted briefly toward Ariv before he continued. "The Queen of Veils has summoned you because your existence is no longer… ordinary."
Ariv stiffened. "Summoned us? For what?"
"To understand why shadows stalk you. To determine if you are protectors… or a threat."
The words struck like a blade dipped in frost. Before Ariv could speak, Rudraen gestured toward seven colossal statues standing in a circle around the citadel's base. Each statue held a different weapon: a spear, a sword, a staff, a shield, and more, their eyes glowing faintly.
"These," Rudraen said, "are the Seven Pillars. Each represents a Veil—the forces that keep the realms from collapsing into chaos. Beyond them lies the Council of Veils. They are the guardians who serve the Queen."
Vaishnavi's voice wavered. "And… why us?"
"Because threads of the Veil now run through you," Rudraen replied. "You… are anomalies. The realm does not allow anomalies to wander free."
As they walked again, the silence thickened. Ariv kept his gaze down, hiding the storm inside him. Anomalies. That word scraped his thoughts raw. Ever since the symbol appeared, nothing made sense. And now… being dragged into some cosmic council?
Halfway across the bridge, something strange happened. As Ariv's foot touched a circle of engraved light on the path, the air rippled. A faint whisper curled through the void:
"The blood returns…"
Ariv froze, his pulse hammering. He looked around, but no one else seemed to notice. Only Neel's sharp glance hinted otherwise. Their eyes met briefly before Neel looked away, his expression unreadable.
At last, the group reached a vast courtyard before the citadel gates. The ground here was etched with thousands of sigils glowing like embers. Armored figures stood in rows—Veil Knights, their silver armor glistening like starlight. Their presence exuded a pressure that bent the air itself. When they saw Rudraen, they lowered their weapons and knelt.
One knight stepped forward, kneeling deeper than the rest. His voice rang like steel striking stone.
"Lord Rudraen… the Queen awaits in the Hall of Echoes."
Rudraen nodded slightly. "Understood."
But the knight didn't rise. His tone shifted, low and urgent.
"There is… another matter." His gaze flickered toward the glowing horizon. "The shadows followed. They breached the barrier."
"What?" Rudraen's voice hardened.
Before anyone could react, a chilling wind slithered through the courtyard. The golden light dimmed as black cracks spread across the air like shattered glass. From those cracks, shapes began to crawl out—elongated limbs, faces twisted into masks of void, eyes burning white.
"Kalaraks…" Rudraen muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
Ariv's stomach dropped. "Here? In this realm?"
"They should not be here," Rudraen growled, his crimson aura flaring. "Unless someone opened the way."
Three Kalaraks emerged fully, their presence distorting the air, making the sigils on the ground flicker wildly. A deafening screech ripped through Aethrion, shaking even the distant pillars.
Ariv instinctively reached for his chest as heat surged inside him. His locket vibrated violently, tiny cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. A pulse of raw energy clawed to escape.
"Stay back!" Rudraen barked, his blade igniting with crimson light.
The last thing Ariv heard before everything dissolved into chaos was the whisper again, louder now—
"The blood… awakens."