By the time night fell, Lathen had gone still.
The streets, once filled with chatter and soft laughter, now lay swallowed by mist. Lanterns burned low, their orange light smudged by the fog until the whole town looked like it was breathing smoke.
Kaito stood by the window of his small rented room, watching that cracked moon climb higher.
Each fragment shimmered faintly—blue, then red, then blue again. Like an open wound deciding whether to clot or bleed.
He pressed a hand against the glass. The glow under his skin answered, pulsing in rhythm with the light above.
"Don't," Mira had warned him earlier, locking the door behind her before heading upstairs. "If you hear a voice outside tonight, don't answer it. Doesn't matter if it sounds like someone you know."
At the time, he'd laughed it off. Now, the words felt heavy.
He lay back on the bed, trying to focus on the creak of wood and the tick of the wall clock. Anything but the distant hum that seemed to be crawling closer, whispering at the edge of hearing.
Sleep didn't come.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was darker than before. The moonlight had dimmed, but something else glowed faintly in its place—the blue veins along his wrist, stretching, branching, alive.
And then he heard it.
"Kaito."
Soft. Familiar. The kind of voice that slides under your guard before you realize it's there.
He froze.
"Kaito."
This time it was outside the door.
He swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady. "Mira? That you?"
Silence. Then, almost tenderly—
"Why did you save me?"
The words cut straight through him. He knew that voice now. The girl from the road. The one who smiled before everything went white.
He sat up, breath caught halfway in his throat. "You… you're here?"
Nothing answered. Just that faint hum, rising, twisting through the air like static.
Against every sane impulse, he stood and opened the door.
Mist flooded the hallway. Thick, silver, almost liquid. It shimmered as it rolled over his feet, and beyond it—figures. Shapes moving slowly, unnaturally, like marionettes in half-light.
"Kaito…"
The voice again, closer now. He followed it without thinking.
The stairs creaked beneath him, but the inn was silent. Even the sound of the wind had stopped. Outside the front door, a pale glow spilled across the threshold.
He stepped out.
The town was unrecognizable.
The streets had vanished under a rolling tide of fog. The houses leaned like old bones, and in the distance, the moon hung lower—huge, bleeding red through its cracks.
And beneath it, figures wandered.
Men. Women. Children. Faces gray and hollow, their eyes dim candles flickering in empty sockets. They moved in slow, jerking patterns, heads twitching toward unseen sounds.
Kaito's pulse hammered. He stumbled backward, but his foot hit something soft.
He turned.
A child stood there—barefoot, eyes wide, mouth open but silent. Its skin shimmered faintly blue, like glass filled with water.
"Kaito," it whispered, in a voice too small to hold that much sorrow. "You shouldn't have opened the door."
He staggered back, nearly tripping over the step. "What—what are you?"
The child tilted its head. "You're glowing too."
He looked down. The blue light beneath his skin had spread—across his hands, up his arms, pulsing faster now, almost frantic.
The ground trembled.
A low hum filled the air, like a thousand voices whispering at once. The lost were turning toward him, one by one, drawn by that same glow.
Then—
A hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backward.
"Close your eyes!"
The world exploded in white light.
When Kaito blinked again, the mist was gone. The street was empty. The child, the wandering dead—vanished. Only the fading echo of that hum remained.
He turned sharply. Aldric stood there, coat fluttering, one hand still gripping Kaito's arm.
"I told you to stay inside," Aldric said, voice calm but sharp around the edges. "You're lucky the Veil hasn't claimed you yet."
Kaito's throat was dry. "What the hell was that?"
"Remnants." Aldric's violet eyes glimmered in the half-light. "Echoes of the souls who crossed the Veil and lost their shape. They wander when the moon bleeds."
"Why were they calling my name?"
"Because they recognized the light in you. You're marked by the Veil—half living, half lost. To them, you're both kin and prey."
Kaito's pulse wouldn't slow. His hands trembled, still faintly glowing. "You knew this would happen."
"I warned you."
"No," Kaito snapped. "You knew. You could've stopped it."
Aldric sighed, the faintest trace of regret touching his voice. "Would you have believed me if I told you the dead would come walking?"
He didn't answer.
The wind picked up, carrying the smell of rain and something metallic. Aldric's gaze drifted to the cracked moon.
"It's happening sooner than I thought," he murmured. "The Veil is thinning."
Kaito followed his gaze. The cracks had widened, glowing like molten glass. One fragment pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
"What does it mean?"
"It means," Aldric said quietly, "that your arrival wasn't coincidence. The girl you saw—the one who brought you here—she's tied to this."
Kaito felt his stomach drop. "You know her?"
Aldric didn't answer right away. "I know of her. The Veil's Warden. Once human, long ago. She guards the border between worlds… or did. Lately, she's been breaking her own rules."
"She saved me."
"Or used you."
That landed heavier than he expected. He wanted to deny it, but the words caught in his throat.
Aldric placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture oddly gentle. "If you want answers, find her. But don't do it alone. Not while that mark still burns."
Then he turned, his coat sweeping through the mist, and disappeared down the road.
Kaito stood there, alone again.
The wind stirred. The mist began to settle. Slowly, the town returned to its normal stillness—as if nothing had happened.
He looked at his hands. The glow had faded to a faint shimmer, pulsing weakly beneath the skin.
The girl's voice lingered in his mind. Why did you save me?
He didn't know anymore.
Maybe it wasn't about saving her. Maybe it was about escaping a life that already felt half-dead.
But as he looked up at that fractured sky, he couldn't shake the feeling that every choice he made now—every breath, every step—wasn't really his anymore.
The Veil had pulled him here for something.
And the moon was still bleeding.