The wind that howled through the borderlands carried the bite of winter and the stench of something older, something rotten.
Serenya stood atop the ramparts of Fort Dawnspire, her cloak snapping like a crimson banner in the night air. Below, soldiers scurried to tighten defenses: torches were lit, weapons sharpened, wards etched into the very stone. Yet even with the fortress bustling, silence lay thick—like the world itself was holding its breath.
Kaelen approached from behind, helm tucked beneath one arm, his armor streaked with dust from the long ride. "The men are restless," he said quietly, keeping his voice for her ears alone. "They've heard tales of villages swallowed whole. They fear they'll be next."
Serenya's gaze swept the horizon. Beyond the rolling hills, the northern forest loomed—black, twisted, its canopy a jagged silhouette against the starless sky. The Veil shimmered faintly above it, like a scar etched across the heavens. It pulsed, slow and unsteady, as if struggling to contain something pressing against it from the other side.
"They are right to fear," she replied, her fingers tightening on the stone railing. "But fear alone will not save them. Action will."
Kaelen studied her, as he often did when words failed him. There was a fire in her eyes—one he had seen before in her father's during his prime. Yet unlike the King's steady blaze, Serenya's burned with something untamed, dangerous even. He wanted to shield her from what lay ahead, but he knew better. She was no fragile jewel to be locked away. She was a blade, newly forged, still finding its edge.
Before he could speak, the earth trembled.
A low rumble rose from the forest, carrying with it a foul wind that extinguished half the torches on the wall. Men cried out, scrambling to relight them. From the shadows between trees, shapes began to stir.
"Archers!" barked Captain Deyric, his scarred face hard as stone. "Hold the line!"
The first of the creatures broke from the treeline, sprinting on all fours with inhuman speed. They were twisted mockeries of wolves—skin stretched taut over bone, eyes glowing red, mouths gaping wider than nature allowed. Behind them slithered things without name, writhing masses of shadow with tendrils tipped in claw and fang.
"Loose!"
A volley of arrows darkened the sky, streaking into the beasts. Some fell, pierced and shrieking, dissolving into black smoke upon death. But more surged forward, undeterred, their screeches rising into a chorus that rattled the stones beneath Serenya's feet.
Kaelen drew his blade, the steel gleaming in torchlight. "Stay close to me."
Serenya shook her head. "No. I stay with them." She gestured to the soldiers, whose lines were already buckling.
Before he could argue, she raised her hands. The sigil on her wrist—the mark that had begun to burn brighter since her awakening—flared with golden light. She whispered words not of Solareth's tongue but of something older, instinctive. Magic surged outward, forming a radiant barrier before the gates just as the first wave of beasts slammed into it.
The clash shook the ramparts. Shadows sizzled and shrieked against her shield, their claws melting like wax under a sun too near.
Gasps rose from the soldiers. Hope sparked where fear had dwelled.
Kaelen fought at her side, his sword carving arcs of silver through the air. Each swing cleaved a beast into smoke, yet they kept coming, endless, pouring from the forest like a tide of nightmares.
"Hold fast!" he roared, voice carrying over the chaos.
Serenya's magic strained under the weight of the assault. Sweat beaded her brow, her hands trembling. The barrier flickered. For a moment, the shadow surged through, a wolf's maw snapping inches from her face—until Kaelen's blade split it in two.
Her breath caught, but she steadied herself, forcing more light into the shield. "I won't let them break us!"
The ground quaked again, harder this time. From the forest emerged something larger—an abomination towering twice the height of a man. Its body was stitched together from countless smaller beasts, its limbs bending at grotesque angles. Where its head should have been was only a gaping void, swirling with red mist.
Even the bravest soldiers faltered.
Kaelen stepped forward, planting himself between Serenya and the monster. "This one is mine."
He charged, blade flashing. The abomination swung a massive claw, sending stone splinters flying as it smashed into the wall. Kaelen leapt, rolling aside, striking at the joint of its limb. Black ichor hissed where steel met flesh.
Serenya felt the rhythm of the Veil through her mark, a pulse that resonated with the abomination's movements. It was not merely a beast—it was a herald. A piece of something greater forcing its way through.
She whispered another incantation, summoning a spear of light that hovered above her hand. With a cry, she hurled it. The spear pierced the creature's chest, exploding in a flare that lit the night like dawn. The monster screeched, staggering back, its form unraveling into shadow and smoke.
Silence followed. Only the crackle of torches and the labored breaths of soldiers remained.
The men cheered, relief breaking like rain over parched soil. But Serenya did not join them. Her eyes were fixed on the forest, where the Veil pulsed brighter, as if laughing at their small victory.
Kaelen wiped his blade, turning to her. "You saved us."
"No," she whispered, voice tight. "This was only the beginning."
Far away, within the gilded halls of Solareth's citadel, Lord Malrik stood before the council. His expression was solemn, his tone grave, but beneath it all lay satisfaction.
"The King weakens by the day. His daughter risks herself on the front, squandering the heir's blood where soldiers should stand. Tell me, my lords, does this kingdom look stable to you?"
Whispers filled the chamber, doubt blooming like mold.
Malrik pressed on, weaving his words like a net. "Solareth needs strong hands to guide it. We cannot trust its fate to idealism and youthful folly. Already the people murmur. If the princess falls, what then? Chaos. War. Collapse."
"And who would you suggest guide it, Chancellor?" asked Lord Brennar, suspicion in his voice.
Malrik's smile was thin. "The council, of course. United. With one voice, one hand steering the crown until stability is restored."
It was a careful mask. But behind his words lay a truth Serenya would soon face: the greatest shadows were not only in the north. They lurked within her very court.
That night, as the soldiers of Dawnspire slept uneasy in their barracks, Serenya lay awake, staring at the fractured horizon. Her body ached from channeling power, but it was her mind that refused her rest.
For when the barrier had wavered, she had heard it—a whisper carried from beyond the Veil.
A voice, soft and familiar.
"Serenya…"
Her mother's voice.
Her chest tightened. She had been told her mother was lost in childbirth, claimed by fever. But the voice… it was hers. Calling from the shadows.
Tears pricked her eyes. Was it a trick? Or a truth her father had hidden?
She turned her head slightly, watching Kaelen where he sat near the door, ever the vigilant guardian. His armor lay stacked neatly at his side, his blade across his knees. He had fought like a storm, unyielding, relentless, yet still found space to smile at her after the battle.
Her heart pulled toward him, as surely as the Veil pulled her toward its mysteries.
Both promises dangerous. Both impossible to ignore.
She closed her eyes, whispering into the silence. "If you are truly there… I will find you."
And somewhere in the distance, the Veil pulsed again, like a heartbeat in the dark.