May's mind goes blank.
Absolutely, terrifyingly blank.
Zara stands there—
alive.
Breathing.
Solid.
Not a ghost.
Not a memory.
Not a fragment woven by the Veil.
Her.
Just her.
"Zara…?" May whispers, voice cracking around the impossibility of it.
Nathel's arm shifts slightly in front of her, protective, but even he is frozen with shock—not fear, but disbelief and something dangerously close to grief.
Zara lifts both hands slowly, showing she means no harm.
"It's really me," she murmurs.
Her voice is softer than May remembers, less razor-edged, more… human.
May takes a shaky step forward, tears burning her eyes.
"But you died," she breathes.
"We watched the Veil consume you—Nathel tried to save you—how are you—"
Zara gives a tired, almost sad smile.
"I did die," she says.
"And I didn't."
She glances at Nathel.
"You of all people know what the Veil does to people who aren't ready for it."
Nathel's jaw clenches.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I know," Zara replies simply.
"But neither should you."
May swallows hard.
"What does that mean?"
Zara steps closer, her gaze landing on May's hand—
on the golden mark still faintly glowing beneath her skin.
A look of pure astonishment flashes in her eyes.
"So it finally chose you," Zara says quietly.
"No wonder the Veil woke up."
Nathel stiffens.
"Explain. Now."
Zara sighs, brushing hair from her face.
"I wasn't meant to die that day. The Veil didn't destroy me—it absorbed me. It kept me in its in-between world. I was… suspended. Not alive, not dead. Just part of it."
May's pulse spikes.
"Then how did you escape?"
Zara meets her eyes with a seriousness that steals the breath from May's lungs.
"Because you tore a hole through it, May."
May freezes.
"What?"
"The moment you stepped into the Veil," Zara explains, "you opened pathways that were locked for centuries. And when the bond between you and Nathel flared—when you chose each other—the Veil weakened. Enough for something else to slip out."
Nathel steps forward.
His voice is low.
Dangerous.
"You slipped out," he says.
"But what else?"
The trees go quiet.
The wind stops.
Zara's expression darkens.
"That creature you faced wasn't the only thing that woke up."
May feels her stomach turn cold.
"The Veil," Zara continues, "is unraveling. Cracking. And whether you meant to or not, May… you and Nathel triggered the beginning of its collapse."
"No," Nathel breathes.
"That shouldn't be possible—"
"It wasn't," Zara cuts in.
"Until her."
She points gently at May.
May shakes her head, backing up a step.
"Why me? Why do I matter so much?"
Zara's voice softens—almost painfully gentle.
"Because you're the first Half-Heart in centuries to choose freely. To bind willingly. To survive the Veil's call instead of being consumed by it."
May's skin prickles.
Her hand throbs with the glowing mark.
Zara steps closer, lowering her voice.
"And now the Veil is reacting to that choice. It's trying to reclaim what it believes it created."
Nathel's expression turns fierce.
"It won't touch her again."
Zara gives him a sympathetic look.
"I'm not here to take her from you."
A beat.
"But something else will try."
May's breath catches.
"What?"
Zara looks between them—her gaze heavy with warning.
"The Veil is waking what sleeps inside it.
Old things.
Forgotten things.
Things that were sealed away for a reason."
A shiver claws up May's spine.
Zara continues:
"And they've sensed you, May."
May grips Nathel's arm.
"Sensed me how?"
Zara hesitates.
Then she says the words that make May's blood run cold.
"You didn't just wake the bond.
You awakened a Throne."
Nathel steps back like he's been struck.
"No," he whispers.
"That's impossible—"
"It was," Zara says simply.
"Until her."
May is shaking.
"What's a Throne?"
The wind stirs.
Zara looks at her with a mixture of awe and fear.
"A Throne is not a seat," she says softly.
"It's a power.
An inheritance.
A force the Veil hasn't allowed to manifest for thousands of years."
May's heart pounds painfully.
"And you," Zara finishes, "just became the next heir of it."
Nathel's eyes widen.
"No. No—she can't—she doesn't have the training—she's not ready—"
Zara steps back, her expression grim.
"You don't have time to train her."
May's voice trembles.
"Why?"
Zara looks over her shoulder, toward the trembling shadows of the forest.
"Because the Veil has chosen its champion."
A deep rumble shakes the ground.
Zara's eyes harden.
"And it's coming for you both."
May grips Nathel's hand tighter as the forest line splits open with a low, echoing roar—
something immense
and ancient
and furious
stepping into their world.
Zara raises her hand.
"Get ready," she says.