The night in Eldralore held a silence so thick, even the leaves dared not rustle. The silver glow of the twin moons filtered through the dense canopy, illuminating the path with fragmented light. Lira moved cautiously, her breath shallow, eyes flicking between the trees. Each step was calculated, every sound amplified by her tension. She wasn't alone—she could feel it in her bones.
Behind her, Caelum moved with the same care, though there was an ease to his stride that spoke of a practiced grace. He'd been trained to walk in shadows, to blend into the very fabric of night. And though he said nothing, his presence was a reassurance—solid, unwavering.
"We're close," Lira whispered. "The map led us here."
Ahead, the forest opened into a small glade, bathed in a silver halo. At its center stood a stone monolith, cracked with age, covered in ivy and faintly glowing runes. The air around it shimmered, like heat above sand, though the night was cool.
Caelum moved forward first, unsheathing the dagger at his side, not as a threat, but as a precaution. "This place reeks of old magic."
Lira stepped beside him, her fingers brushing over the ancient stone. The runes pulsed gently beneath her touch, responding not to her magic, but to her blood. The same blood that had once sealed a gate between worlds.
"This is the second marker," she murmured, recalling her grandmother's stories. "One of the Pillars of Passage. There are three. Each one must be awakened before the portal can be opened."
"Awakened how?" Caelum asked, scanning the perimeter, his voice low but alert.
"By memory… by intention." Lira inhaled slowly, placing both hands on the monolith. "By reminding it who I am."
The moment her palms made full contact, the ground trembled. A gust of wind surged through the glade, though the trees did not sway. The runes blazed a brilliant white, then faded into an ethereal blue. Lira's eyes widened as a whisper echoed in her mind—not words, but emotions: sorrow, longing, hope.
"It remembers you," Caelum said, awed.
"No… it remembers her." Lira's voice was quiet. "My mother."
She stepped back, the glow from the stone now steady. It pulsed once, then released a soft chime that reverberated through the forest. A confirmation. The first key had been turned.
Suddenly, a branch snapped from the east side of the glade. Both Lira and Caelum turned sharply, weapons drawn.
From the darkness emerged a figure cloaked in ragged robes. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his presence was unmistakable—charged with power. Not just any mage. A Watcher.
"I was hoping you'd come alone," the man said, voice gravelly, though not hostile. "But I suppose the prince shadows you still."
Caelum narrowed his eyes. "State your purpose."
The Watcher ignored him, directing his attention to Lira. "You've awakened what should remain asleep, child of the Veil. The balance grows thin."
"It's not your place to decide what should sleep or wake," Lira replied, standing firm. "You don't understand what's coming."
"I understand more than you think." The Watcher stepped forward, lowering his hood. His face was lined with age and pain, one eye clouded, the other sharp. "Your mother made the same mistake. She opened the gate, and the cost was her life."
Lira flinched at the words. Caelum's stance shifted, more protective now.
"I'm not her," she said. "And I won't make her mistakes."
The Watcher looked at her long and hard. "No, you won't. Because you won't get the chance."
Before Caelum could react, the Watcher lifted his hand and cast a sigil into the air. A sphere of energy exploded from his palm, hurtling toward Lira.
Caelum moved faster than thought, intercepting it with a barrier of his own. The shockwave sent him skidding back, boots digging into earth. Lira cried out, but the prince gritted his teeth and held his ground.
"That's enough!" she shouted, summoning the echo of her own magic. The pillar behind her responded, flaring blue. She raised her hands, and a wall of energy surged between her and the Watcher, forcing him back.
He stumbled, caught off guard. "You've bonded with it already?"
"I told you," Lira said, stepping forward. "I'm not her. I'm something new."
The Watcher stared at her for a long moment, then laughed—a dry, humorless sound. "Then we'll see if you're strong enough to bear what's next."
With that, he vanished into mist, the shadows swallowing him whole.
Silence returned to the glade, broken only by Caelum's labored breath. He straightened, dusting off his cloak.
"You alright?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and admiration.
"I think so," she replied, though her hands still trembled. "That was a Watcher. A real one."
"Then you've officially made enemies of the old order." He smirked faintly. "Welcome to the rebellion."
Lira couldn't help but laugh, the tension in her chest easing for a moment.
But as she turned back to the pillar, her smile faded. The next part of the journey would take them to the second marker—hidden deep in the mountains of Arvaneth, guarded by beasts older than time.
They had little time left. The eclipse drew closer, and with it, the chance to bridge worlds… or break them forever.