The golden light of the Veilbridge dimmed behind Lina as she stepped forward, vines unraveling into streams of sparkling motes that drifted upward and vanished into the mist.
The ground beneath her was no longer stone but something stranger—soft yet solid, a pathway woven from strands of light. It glowed faintly beneath her bare feet, warm like sunlit wood in the afternoon.
She dared a glance downward and instantly wished she hadn't. There was no earth at all.
Beneath her stretched an infinite sky the color of deep twilight, scattered with slow-moving clouds and floating islands of every imaginable shape. Some were covered in emerald forests whose trees seemed taller than mountains. Others were crowned by silver waterfalls that spilled endlessly into the void, their streams dissolving into glittering mist before they reached anything below. One distant isle glowed crimson as if molten fire pulsed within its core, and another shimmered like a shard of living glass, refracting rainbow light into the air around it.
Lina swallowed hard. "Don't… look down," she whispered to herself.
The butterfly hovered a few steps ahead, its wings catching the light in shifting ribbons of gold and silver. It didn't seem the least bit concerned by the impossible drop at their sides.
Her footsteps were soundless, but the air around her thrummed softly—an almost musical vibration, as if she were walking along the strings of a great invisible harp. The strange hum resonated deep in her chest, syncing with the steady, gentle pulse of the mark on her wrist.
They walked for what felt like hours, though the shifting islands gave her no sense of time. Eventually, a new shape began to rise ahead—at first just a shimmer in the air, then a distinct silhouette.
It was a palace.
But unlike any palace Lina had seen in books or movies, this one wasn't made of stone, wood, or metal. Its walls were built entirely from feathers, each the size of a man's arm, overlapping in endless layers. They shimmered in colors that shifted depending on where she looked—deep sapphire one moment, molten gold the next, then iridescent green like a hummingbird's throat.
Slender towers like giant quills pierced the clouds, their tips tipped with glowing light. Between these towers stretched delicate bridges woven from strands of luminescent silk, swaying gently in a breeze she couldn't feel.
Lina slowed, her voice barely more than a breath. "What is this place?"
A voice—not the butterfly's—answered from above.
"This is the Hall of Wings."
She froze. A tall figure was descending the great staircase that curved down from the palace entrance. His cloak was made of black feathers that shimmered with violet when he moved, and his face was hidden behind a silver mask shaped like a moth, its surface etched with curling runes that glowed faintly in the light. His eyes—sharp and clear—watched her carefully.
"You crossed the Veilbridge," he said. "Few dare. Fewer still survive."
Lina opened her mouth, unsure whether to thank him or ask what exactly she had survived, but the words caught in her throat.
"Come. The council waits," the masked guardian said, turning back toward the stairs.
She followed, the butterfly gliding beside her. The staircase seemed far longer than it appeared from below—step after step unfolding under her feet in an almost dreamlike stretch of time. Along the way, she passed open archways through which she caught glimpses of strange creatures: flocks of glowing birds with four wings, foxes with feathers instead of fur, and trees whose branches curled into spirals hung with crystal fruit.
Finally, they reached the great doors of the Hall. They were crafted from enormous feathers pressed so tightly together they had become solid, yet they still shimmered faintly, as if holding the memory of flight.
The guardian placed his hand against them. The runes on his mask glowed, and the doors swung inward without a sound.
The chamber inside was breathtaking.
It was vast and round, the ceiling disappearing into drifting clouds lit by an unseen sun. Light streamed down in golden shafts, catching on dust motes that looked suspiciously like tiny glowing insects. The floor was a massive mosaic depicting outstretched wings—hundreds of them—each tile a different hue, from fiery orange to moonlit silver.
Around the perimeter stood figures cloaked in robes, each wearing a mask shaped like the face of a butterfly or moth. No two masks were alike—some glimmered with precious stones, others were carved from bone, others still were woven from living vines and petals that shifted as if breathing.
The air was heavy with quiet power.
One figure stepped forward. Her robe was the color of a sunrise, warm and soft, and her mask took the shape of a monarch butterfly's wings edged in gold.
"Lina Evermere," she said, her voice as calm and measured as the wind over tall grass. "Bearer of the Wing-Sigil. You have crossed the Veilbridge and hold the first key."
Lina's brow furrowed. "Why me? I'm just… me. A kid. I'm not—"
The councilwoman tilted her head slightly. "You are the descendant of the Seekers—walkers between realms, keepers of the balance. Your grandmother was one of us. She closed her wings to the call, but the call has come to you."
Lina's breath caught. "My grandmother?" Memories flashed—nights spent curled on the couch while the old woman told strange tales of rivers that sang, of doors that opened where there were no walls. Lina had always thought they were just bedtime stories.
A deeper voice rumbled from across the circle. A tall figure stepped forward, draped in indigo feathers, his mask split evenly down the middle—half black, half white. "The Veilroot weakens. Shadows gather. If they spill into your world, neither realm will remain whole."
A murmur swept the chamber, like the sound of a thousand wings rustling in the dark.
"You have been chosen to restore the balance," the monarch-masked woman continued. "But you are not yet ready."
Lina straightened her shoulders. "Tell me what I need to do."
"You will train," the moth-masked man said. "Learn to call the light within your mark. Seek the other keys hidden in your city. They are veiled in plain sight, guarded by both light and shadow."
She glanced at the butterfly hovering beside her. "And it?"
The councilwoman's tone softened. "It is your guide, your protector… and your judge. Wings can hide both kindness and danger. Trust—but test."
Another council member stepped forward, their mask shaped like a swallowtail's wings, colored deep violet. "Your first trial lies in the Hollowed Garden, where the Veil's shadow seeps through. The second key rests there. But beware—the darkness in that place can speak in your own voice."
A chill ran down Lina's spine. "And if I fail?"
The violet figure didn't hesitate. "Then both your world and ours will begin to fade."
Silence fell. She could hear her own heartbeat, loud in her ears.
Finally, the monarch-masked woman stepped closer, laying a hand on Lina's shoulder. It was warm, lighter than air. "Go with courage, Seeker. Every wingbeat matters."
The butterfly flared with light, and Lina felt its warmth on her skin like a promise. Her path was no longer uncertain—it was set.
The Hollowed Garden awaited.