The forest grew wrong as Kael and Lira followed the winding trail east—colors dulled, shadows stretched unnaturally long, the air pressed heavy against their chests. Even the birds refused to sing here.
Lira slowed first. "It's too quiet."
Kael nodded, feeling the dragon inside him stir uneasily. Something walked with them, just out of sight. Not beast. Not demon. Something colder.
The ground beneath them darkened—shadows spreading like ink.
A figure stepped out from the treeline ahead.
It had no face. No features. Just a tall, smooth, pale silhouette shaped like a person carved from fog. Its edges shimmered, smoke peeling off its body like it was forever melting.
Lira stepped in front of Kael instantly, her stance hard, brave, steady. "Stay back."
The creature's head tilted toward Kael despite having no eyes.
"Shattered Flame.
You walk the wrong path."
Kael felt heat crawl up his spine. He gripped his blade. "What are you?"
Its voice drifted like a whisper spoken underwater. "A memory. A warning. A hunter of broken souls."
Lira snapped her hands forward—silver light bursting from her palms, sharp enough to burn the air. The shadow recoiled, its form rippling. She didn't wait; she advanced, sending another blast of light that carved through the creature's chest.
"Kael, move!" she shouted.
But the shadow moved faster.
Its arm stretched like smoke, stabbing toward Lira's throat—
—and a staff flashed between them.
A crack of golden energy split the air.
The shadow evaporated into a swirl of darkness.
Kael exhaled shakily as a familiar voice drifted from behind them.
"Well," Maelor said, stepping through the dissolving mist, "that was rude even by shadow-spawn standards."
He twirled his bone-and-gold staff once before planting it beside him. His hood hung low as always, but Kael could see one eye gleaming with mischief.
Lira sighed, exasperated but relieved. "Maelor. You could have warned us sooner."
"Where's the fun in that?" he replied cheerfully.
Kael sheathed his blade. "What was that thing?"
Maelor poked at the fading smoke with the end of his staff. "A Veilborne fragment. Nasty little memories that forgot they're supposed to stay dead." He straightened, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. "They're sniffing around for you, boy. Your flame has grown loud."
Kael tensed. Lira stepped closer to him, her voice low. "Is it because of the Shattered Flame?"
Maelor's smile dimmed just slightly—still playful, but edged with something sharper.
"Oh, it's because of many things," he said. "Your flame. Lira's awakening. The cracks between realms growing impatient." He flicked his fingers. "And because destiny has terrible manners and no concept of boundaries."
The trees shivered—soft at first, then violently.
Kael's hand moved to his blade again. "More of them?"
"Mm-hmm," Maelor hummed. "And those won't be fragments."
He started walking deeper into the forest like he was out for a pleasant stroll.
"Well? Come along, children. The forest hungers, and I'd rather it didn't eat you yet."
Lira exchanged a look with Kael—half annoyance, half trust.
Kael muttered under his breath, "Why does he always show up exactly when things get bad?"
Maelor called over his shoulder without turning, "Because, Kael, timing is an art I have perfected. Now hurry before the hungry shadows grow confident."
Kael followed, feeling the forest shift behind them—shapes gathering in the dark, waiting.
Every step forward felt like the path was tightening around their fate