By dawn, the streets of Lathen looked normal again.
Too normal.
Kaito leaned against the inn's doorway, watching townsfolk sweep their steps and open stalls like nothing had crawled through the mist last night. The cobblestones were clean. The air smelled of bread, not blood.
And that cracked moon still hung pale in the morning sky, as if mocking him.
"Rough night?" Mira asked from behind the counter. She was kneading dough, sleeves rolled high, eyes sharp.
He hesitated. "Did… anything happen while I was out?"
"Define anything."
"Like… ghosts. Or people walking around who shouldn't be."
She looked at him for a long second, then went back to kneading. "You shouldn't talk about that sort of thing so loud. The town prefers not to remember."
That hit harder than he expected. "Pretend it didn't happen, you mean."
"Exactly," she said. "You'll learn fast around here—denial is our strongest form of magic."
He gave a hollow laugh. "You sound like you've seen this before."
"Everyone in Lathen has." She looked up, her tone softer now. "The Veil breathes differently here. Some nights it exhales, and the dead follow. Then morning comes, and we go on pretending we're the lucky ones."
Kaito studied her face. There was no fear in it—just the kind of quiet exhaustion people wear after surviving something too many times to count.
He wanted to ask more, but the door opened with a chime.
Ryn—the messenger boy from before—hurried in, clutching a small parcel. He looked pale, his usual grin gone.
"Mira, it's the guild," he said. "They've called for a meeting at dusk. They want every able hand."
Mira frowned. "That soon?"
"Something's wrong near the forest line. Hunters didn't return."
The three of them stood in silence, the morning suddenly feeling thinner.
Finally, Mira sighed and wiped her hands. "Go deliver the rest, Ryn. And keep your head down."
When the boy left, Kaito spoke quietly. "You think it's connected to last night?"
She gave a small shrug. "In this town, everything's connected to something no one wants to name."
Later that day, Kaito sat behind the inn, elbows resting on the fence, staring at the dirt path winding toward the hills.
The sunlight didn't quite reach there—it was always dim, even at noon. The same faint blue shimmer ran beneath the soil, like veins in the earth.
He clenched his hand, watching the faint glow under his skin respond.
He remembered Aldric's words. That mark means the Veil didn't simply let you through—it chose you.
He raised his palm, focusing. The glow pulsed. A warmth built in his arm, subtle at first, then stronger, almost like a heartbeat moving outward.
For a second, light gathered in his hand—a small, trembling sphere that hovered between his fingers.
He exhaled, stunned.
Then it burst, leaving only a faint spark and the smell of iron.
"Too soon," someone said.
Kaito spun around. Aldric leaned against the fence post, coat swaying lightly. He looked more at ease than last night, but his eyes hadn't lost that unreadable gleam.
"You're following me again?" Kaito asked, wary.
"Observing. There's a difference." Aldric gestured toward his hand. "The Veilmark reacts to your will, but it's not meant for control. It's instinct—yours and the Veil's. Push too hard, and it'll burn through you."
"Then how am I supposed to use it?"
Aldric tilted his head. "You don't use it. You listen to it. The Veil doesn't speak in words—it moves through memory."
"Memory," Kaito repeated.
"Close your eyes. Think of something you lost."
Kaito hesitated, but obeyed.
He thought of rain on asphalt. The smell of exhaust. The flashing lights of a truck that didn't stop. The cold pavement under his hands. And that girl—her hair plastered to her face, her faint smile, her whisper: thank you.
The warmth returned—stronger this time. His whole arm shivered with light. The air thickened, bending faintly around him.
When he opened his eyes, mist coiled from his palm, swirling into shape—a single white feather, glowing like moonlight.
It floated for a moment, weightless, then faded into air.
Kaito stared, breathless. "That… was me?"
Aldric nodded. "Or rather, it was the memory you offered. The Veil borrowed it for a moment and gave it form."
"That's magic here?"
"It's one kind. The old kind. The kind that doesn't ask for power but for truth."
Kaito flexed his fingers, watching the last shimmer fade. "So if I want to grow stronger…"
"You'll have to remember more than you're ready to."
The words lingered long after Aldric left.
By dusk, the guild square was crowded. Hunters, merchants, and townsfolk stood shoulder to shoulder, faces tense. The cracked moon had returned to its pale glow, but no one looked at it.
A man in leather armor—broad-shouldered, scarred, clearly in charge—stepped forward. "Two patrols went missing near the western ridge. No blood, no tracks. Just silence."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Someone asked, "You think it's the mist again?"
The man's jaw tightened. "We don't speak of that."
Kaito stood near the back, trying not to stand out. But his hand kept glowing faintly through his sleeve, no matter how tightly he clenched his fist.
He caught Ryn watching him nervously from across the crowd. Mira, beside him, gave a subtle shake of her head—don't.
The meeting ended with orders for patrols at sunrise. People dispersed quickly, eyes low, words whispered.
Kaito turned to leave when he saw her.
The girl in white.
Standing at the edge of the square, beneath the shadow of the clocktower. Barefoot again. Eyes gray as ash.
No one else seemed to notice her.
"Kaito."
Her voice brushed the inside of his mind, soft as breath.
He stepped forward, then stopped himself. "Why now?"
"Because the Veil's waking," she said. "And it remembers what you are."
"What I am?"
She smiled faintly. "A debt."
The ground beneath her flickered, light bleeding through the cracks like liquid moonfire. Her form shimmered, like she wasn't fully there.
"I didn't bring you here to save me," she said. "I brought you to end me."
The words hit like a physical blow. He stumbled a step closer. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Her eyes softened. "You'll understand when the Veil opens again. Until then, don't fight it. Don't let the light sleep."
Then she was gone—vanished into the mist that hadn't been there a moment ago.
The square fell silent.
Kaito stood alone beneath the cracked moon, his hand trembling, that light under his skin burning brighter, faster, like a pulse trying to break free.
And in the reflection of a shop window, he swore he saw his own eyes flicker—not blue this time, but silver.