The moon was still high when Kael left the capital behind.
No fanfare, no guards—only the soft thud of his boots on the old north road.
Veylen had argued against this reckless departure, but Kael knew he couldn't drag the court's politics into this hunt.
The Veil-Breaker, whatever it was, had to be found before the Crimson Concord made their move.
The Flame within him was restless, flickering like a caged predator.
Since the fight in the Silt Market, the voices had changed.
They no longer spoke in riddles alone—there were flashes of names, places, scents that didn't belong to his world.
And always… that same humming undercurrent, as if the fire was remembering something it shouldn't.
The Forest of Kainor
Two days' travel north, Kael reached the edge of Kainor, a forest older than the kingdom itself.
The locals claimed it grew in defiance of the gods, its heart so thick with shadow that no bird dared sing within.
Standing at its edge, Kael could feel the air tighten, taste iron on his tongue.
The Flame in his palm guttered, reluctant.
"You feel it too," Kael murmured.
The whisper came immediately. The Veil is thin here.
The path inside was barely a path at all, just damp leaves over twisted roots.
Shapes moved in the periphery—too tall, too still to be deer.
At one point, he thought he saw a man standing between two oaks, head tilted unnaturally far, but when he blinked the figure was gone.
Hours passed, and the light failed faster than it should have.
The shadows here didn't follow the rules—they leaned toward him like curious beasts.
When Kael stopped to drink from a stream, he noticed the water reflected not his face, but another: eyes like black glass, lips pulled into something that could be a grin… or a snarl.
The Watcher
It appeared at dusk.
A cloaked figure stepped from the treeline ahead, staff in hand, face hidden by a mask carved from pale wood.
The voice that came from behind it was deep, resonant, and wrong.
"You seek the Veil-Breaker. The question is… will it break you first?"
Kael's hand tightened around his sword hilt. "You know where it is."
The figure tilted its head. "Perhaps. But knowledge has a cost, Flamebearer."
It tapped the staff against the ground, and the forest reacted—roots twisting up, forming a rough circle around them.
The Flame surged in Kael's veins. "Name it."
The Watcher stepped closer, lowering its voice until it was almost intimate.
"Three nights from now, the Veil will shiver in the ruins beyond the Hollow Pass.
Bring no steel. Bring no allies. And if you hear someone calling your name, do not answer."
Before Kael could speak, the roots fell away, and the Watcher was gone—vanished like smoke.
The First Tear
That night, Kael camped under a dead tree, its bark white as bone.
He woke in the darkness to find the air rippling in front of him, as if the world itself were stretching.
The voices in the Flame rose in sudden panic. It begins too soon…
The ripple tore open, and for a heartbeat Kael saw beyond—an expanse of black sand under a green sky, where colossal shapes moved in the distance, dragging chains.
Something looked back at him from that other side.
A single, luminous eye, wide and unblinking.
Then the Veil sealed shut.
Kael sat there long after the night was silent again, the image burned into his mind.
Whatever the Veil-Breaker was, it wasn't just a weapon or a relic.
It was alive.