The night had never felt so fragile.
Outside the castle walls, Solareth glittered with lanterns, its people unaware that treachery had already crept into the heart of their city. Inside, whispers ran like poison through the corridors. Guards exchanged wary glances. Servants spoke of muffled footsteps in forbidden wings, of doors left ajar when no one should have passed.
The air itself seemed charged, as though the Veil pressed harder against the world.
Kaelen stood by Serenya's side in the council chamber once more, though tonight there were fewer voices. Veradis's betrayal had shaken the court. Those present sat rigid, some too quiet, some too defensive. Serenya's crown gleamed beneath the light of the silver candelabras, but her gaze was harder than the jewel-studded gold she wore.
"Councilor Veradis has confessed," she said, her voice steady, resonant, every syllable cutting through the chamber like a blade. "He admitted to conspiring with Veilspawn emissaries. He sought to weaken Solareth from within. His punishment will be swift, but hear this—" She stood tall, her voice carrying to every corner. "—let any who harbor similar intentions tremble. For betrayal will not go unpunished."
A murmur swept through the chamber. Some eyes lowered in guilt, others hardened in defiance. Kaelen noted each, burning their faces into memory.
When the session ended, Serenya lingered, her hand resting lightly against the table. Kaelen approached, speaking low so only she could hear.
"They fear you more than they fear the Veil."
"They should," she whispered back, though a flicker of doubt crossed her expression. "Yet fear is not the same as loyalty."
That night, Kaelen did not sleep. He paced the corridors, every shadow a threat, every echo a warning. His instincts screamed of danger. The Scroll of Union rested in Serenya's chamber, locked beneath wards no one should breach. Yet something in the stillness gnawed at him.
Hours past midnight, the sound came—distant at first, then louder. A horn. Not from the outer watchtowers, but from within the city itself.
Kaelen's blood ran cold.
The alarm bell followed, tolling with iron urgency.
He sprinted through the castle, shouting orders to the guards he passed. By the time he reached the courtyard, chaos had already taken root. Flames licked at the night sky. Smoke curled above the rooftops of Solareth.
The Veilspawn had come.
And worse—they had been let inside.
Serenya appeared moments later, clad not in silks but in battle armor chased with silver runes. Her amber eyes burned as she took in the sight of her city under attack.
"They breached the northern gate," a guard cried, blood staining his uniform. "The wards were down, Majesty. Disabled from within!"
Kaelen cursed under his breath. Treachery, again.
"Gather the guard captains," Serenya commanded, her voice steel. "The city must not fall before dawn."
Kaelen's hand found her arm briefly. "You must stay within the castle walls. If you fall—"
Her gaze snapped to him, fierce. "If I hide while my people burn, then I am already fallen."
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Kaelen nodded, grim. "Then I go with you."
The streets of Solareth were war.
Creatures born of the Veil poured through the shattered gates—beings of shadow and twisted flesh, their eyes glowing with unnatural hunger. Their shrieks echoed against the stone, mingling with the cries of terrified citizens. Guards clashed with them in desperate skirmishes, blades flashing in firelight.
Kaelen fought at Serenya's side, his blade a silver arc through the dark. Each strike was precise, brutal, driven not by rage but by necessity. Blood, both human and inhuman, slicked the cobblestones.
"Stay close!" he shouted, driving his sword through a Veilspawn's chest. The creature collapsed in a hiss of black smoke.
Serenya, wielding a staff crowned with radiant crystal, channeled light that seared through shadowed flesh. Yet even as her magic flared, her strength wavered beneath the enormity of the battle.
They reached the northern gate at last. Or what remained of it. The great iron doors lay twisted, shattered. And there, in the heart of the chaos, stood a figure cloaked in midnight.
Kaelen froze. He recognized the posture instantly.
"Veradis," he spat.
The councilor—escaped, or freed—stood with a twisted smile. "Did you think chains could hold one who serves the Veil?" His voice carried an echo, as though another spoke through him. "You are too late. The city is already lost."
Serenya's staff glowed brighter. "You damn yourself twice over, traitor."
Veradis only laughed, the sound grating. "No. I save myself. And perhaps, when the Veil fully opens, I will rule where you crumble."
He raised his hand. Dark energy swirled, coalescing into a rift that bled shadow. More creatures poured forth.
Kaelen lunged. His sword clashed with Veradis's conjured blade of darkness, sparks scattering as steel met shadow. The councilor fought like a man possessed—because he was. Something unnatural guided his movements, something not entirely his own.
Serenya unleashed a burst of radiant power, the light striking Veradis squarely. He screamed, staggering, the shadow writhing as though burned. But before Kaelen could finish him, Veradis vanished into the rift, his laughter echoing as it closed behind him.
Kaelen cursed, his chest heaving.
Serenya's face was pale, her hands trembling as she lowered her staff. "This was no mere raid. This was a test. A message."
Kaelen wiped the blood from his blade. "Then we will answer."
By dawn, the fires were quenched, but Solareth bore scars. Streets blackened by flame. Families grieving their dead. Soldiers too weary to stand.
In the aftermath, Serenya walked among her people, her armor scorched, her crown set aside. She knelt beside the wounded, spoke words of comfort, bound wounds with her own hands. Kaelen followed, silent, watching her draw strength not from titles or thrones but from her unyielding will.
When at last they returned to the castle, she collapsed into a chair, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. The Scroll of Union lay on the table before her, its script glowing faintly as though stirred by the night's events.
She looked at Kaelen, eyes haunted but determined. "The prophecy grows clearer. Two souls bound across worlds—the key to the Veil's undoing. Last night proved it. They came for us, Kaelen. For this bond."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "Then let them come. They'll find we are not so easily broken."
Her hand reached across the table, brushing his. It was the smallest touch, yet it carried the weight of all they had endured, all they would yet face.
"We will stand together," she whispered.
Kaelen met her gaze, his own steady, unwavering. "Always."
But as dawn's light spilled through the windows, Kaelen knew the battle was far from over. Veradis had escaped. The Veilspawn would return. And somewhere, deep within the shadows of prophecy, darker truths waited to be unveiled.
That night, as the city struggled to mend itself, Kaelen dreamed.
He stood again upon the border of two worlds—the mortal realm and the Veil. Shadows writhed before him, and in their depths, he saw Veradis. But not only him. Other faces flickered within the dark—councilors, soldiers, even strangers. Betrayal, endless, blooming like rot.
And beyond them, two figures stood illuminated. One of twilight. One of dawn. Their hands almost touching. Their union radiated power enough to shake the heavens.
When Kaelen reached for Serenya in that vision, he awoke with his heart pounding, his hand outstretched into empty air.
The bond was real. The prophecy was real. And time was running out.