The void was endless.
Soundless. Sightless. Senseless.
Just cold. Crushing. Infinite.
I didn't know how long we fell. Maybe seconds. Maybe centuries. Time didn't exist in that space. There was only the feeling of my body being pulled apart and stitched back together at once, like every atom of me was trying to remember how to belong to a whole.
Then the ground slammed into me.
Hard.
Air punched from my lungs. My body screamed in protest as I rolled across packed earth, gravel biting into raw skin. A grunt sounded nearby—Alistair.
The world slowly stitched itself back into focus. Not the execution square. Not the alley. Somewhere else.
I blinked up at a sky smeared in crimson and ash.
The air was thick with magic. It hummed against my skin, clinging to my lungs like smoke. Trees loomed overhead, gnarled and twisted, their bark blackened like charcoal. A forest—but not one born of nature. This place had been cursed.
I staggered to my feet, boots crunching over dried leaves and brittle bone. I scanned the clearing, heart hammering. No soldiers. No fire. Just me and—
Alistair sat a few feet away, one leg outstretched, cloak dusted in ash, fingers still smoldering from whatever magic he'd used.
I stared at him. "What was that?"
He exhaled sharply, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "A gate crystal."
"You didn't mention it would feel like dying."
"It's not supposed to be pleasant," he said, voice hoarse. "But it got us out, didn't it?"
I opened my mouth to argue—but he was right. The inn, the guards, the burning city… all gone.
"We're safe?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away. He turned his gaze to the edge of the clearing, where the trees pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
"No," he said at last. "We're in the Veilwood."
I shivered. Even the name felt wrong. "What's the Veilwood?"
"A fracture in the world," he said. "Magic gone mad. A place cursed by gods and forgotten by men."
Lovely.
I brushed soot from my hands, trying to suppress the tremble in my limbs. "Why bring us here?"
"Because no sane soldier will follow."
Alistair pushed himself upright with a grunt. I noticed he favored one side—his left shoulder was soaked in blood. It hadn't been bleeding earlier.
"You're hurt," I said.
He waved me off. "Not important."
"It looks pretty important."
He turned that golden gaze on me. "Can you patch a wound like this?"
I hesitated. "No."
"Then don't worry about it."
Stubborn idiot.
Still, I tore a strip from my already-ruined dress and moved closer. He didn't stop me as I pressed it gently to his shoulder.
"You saved me," I said quietly.
"I needed you alive."
"So you keep saying." I looked up at him. "But why?"
He glanced down, expression unreadable. "You asked me that already."
"And you gave me riddles."
He smirked faintly. "You're learning."
Before I could press, something howled in the distance.
Not a wolf.
Something worse.
The sound twisted in the air, wrong and wet and shrieking. I froze.
"What was that?" I whispered.
Alistair's smile vanished. "We're not alone."
He turned, scanning the shadows. "We need to move. Now."
I followed as he limped into the trees, branches clawing at us like skeletal fingers. The deeper we went, the more the forest shifted. Trees with hollow eyes. Stones that whispered. The air thick with rot and sorrow.
"How long do we have to stay here?" I asked.
"Until I find the next tether."
"Tether?"
"A way back. The Veilwood doesn't obey normal rules. There are places—nodes of power—where a skilled mage can bend it. If we find one, I can get us out."
"If?"
He shot me a grin. "Would you rather go back to the city?"
Fair.
We walked in silence for a while. I stayed close to him, even though I hated how much I needed his strength. My feet ached. My body throbbed. The warmth from the healing potion had long since faded, leaving only fatigue in its place.
Eventually, we reached a clearing.
At the center stood a tree unlike the others—tall, skeletal, bark as white as bone. Symbols had been carved into its trunk, ancient and glowing faintly.
Alistair exhaled in relief. "A tether."
He moved to the tree, placing a hand against the bark. The glyphs flared to life, pulsing with eerie light. The air shimmered.
Then—
A scream shattered the air.
I spun.
From the shadows, something burst into the clearing.
It was tall—taller than any man—limbs too long, skin stretched tight over bones. Its face was a blank canvas, featureless and glistening, except for a vertical slit where its mouth should be.
And it was running straight for me.
Alistair cursed. "Wraith!"
I dove aside as the creature lunged, its claws gouging into the earth. Alistair's hand snapped up, magic crackling in his palm. A bolt of violet energy slammed into the creature's side, sending it reeling.
"Keep it distracted!" he shouted.
Me?
"Distract the monster?" I hissed, ducking as it lunged again.
I slashed with the dagger he'd given me. It barely scratched the thing, but it snarled, turning its faceless head toward me.
"Over here, you eyeless freak!" I yelled, backing away.
It followed.
Alistair muttered something in a language I didn't understand. The air shimmered again. Glyphs on the tree flared.
"Hurry!" I screamed.
He didn't answer.
The wraith slashed at me. I stumbled, falling hard.
Pain lanced through my leg.
It loomed over me, claws raised—
Then Alistair was there, his blade slicing through its arm. The creature screamed—shrill and wrong—and swiped at him. He dodged, magic bursting from his hand again. This time, the wraith crumpled, twitching.
Alistair knelt beside me. "You're bleeding."
I looked down. Blood soaked my thigh. "Just a scratch."
He didn't look convinced. But he pressed his hand to the tree again, and this time, the glyphs erupted in light.
A circle of symbols spread around us.
The forest screamed.
And the world shifted.
We landed in a cave.
Dim. Cold. Wet stone dripping with condensation.
My leg throbbed. The gash was worse than I thought. I bit down a cry as I tried to move.
Alistair knelt, pulling supplies from a satchel I hadn't seen before. He worked silently, cleaning the wound, wrapping it tight.
"You're good at this," I muttered.
"I've had practice."
He tied the bandage tight, then sat back with a sigh. His face was pale. The wound on his shoulder had reopened.
I reached for the satchel. "My turn."
He raised a brow. "You know how?"
"Trial and error."
He didn't argue.
As I cleaned the blood from his skin, I tried to ignore the way his muscles shifted under my fingers. Tried to ignore how close we were.
"You're not what I expected," I said.
"Disappointed?"
"Confused."
He smirked. "Good. Confusion keeps you alive."
When I finished, he leaned back against the cave wall, eyes slipping shut. "We'll rest here. Just for a few hours."
I nodded.
But sleep didn't come.
I watched him.
His face in sleep was softer. Less guarded. The mask slipped.
Who was this man?
He'd saved me. Fought for me. Bled for me.
But he was dangerous. Too smooth. Too careful.
And he knew things. About me. About Seraphina.
Who was I really?
The memories were getting stronger. Flickers of her life bleeding into mine.
I remembered a mirror. A crown. A kiss under a blood moon.
I remembered dying.
And yet here I was.
Alive.
I curled on the stone floor, eyes wide, heart heavy.
Outside, the wind howled.
Inside, I shivered.
Tomorrow, I would get answers.
But tonight—I survived.