---
Sleep came to me that night like a thief.
Unwanted. Restless. Full of whispers.
The Archive had grown unbearably silent after Lady Thalindra vanished into light. Rowen had fallen asleep over a pile of runes, his pen still clutched in his fingers. Outside, rain pressed softly against the glass, tracing paths like veins down the tall, arched windows.
I sat alone, candlelight trembling over the parchment that bore the prophecy's newest line:
> "The Heir has risen from dust — the Veil cracks anew."
The letters pulsed faintly, alive, like breathing embers.
Every few minutes, I caught myself tracing them, unable to stop.
It felt as if the words were touching back.
My chest still ached where the witch's spell had burned me earlier, faintly glowing beneath my skin. Thalindra called it the tether.
A bond born of remembrance, she said — though I did not understand what I was supposed to remember.
Until the dreams began.
---
The first time I saw him, I thought it was memory — the face of an angel carved from ash and flame, eyes like fractured light. But the longer I looked, the more I realized: angels did not smile like that.
Tonight, the dream returned, clearer than before.
The world around me was shifting mist — pale and cold, a realm between worlds. My footsteps left ripples on the air. Ahead, the horizon burned faintly gold and crimson.
And there he was — standing in the distance, half-shadow, half-light.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
The air trembled. The mist shivered.
He turned, and the world changed.
His gaze was nothing human — too alive, too ancient. The faint lines of golden sigils traced the edge of his throat, pulsing like veins of molten metal. His voice was low, shaped by eternity.
> "You called me."
"I— what?"
He took a step closer. I could feel the pull in my chest — the same burn that had marked me. "You touched the seal," he murmured, eyes dark and bright all at once. "Your soul remembers what your mind has forgotten."
"I don't—"
"You freed me."
The words struck me like thunder. I stumbled back, heart hammering. "Freed you? I don't even know who you are."
He tilted his head slightly, as though amused. "No. Not yet. But you will."
He reached out a hand, fingers almost brushing mine. The air between us hissed, light bleeding from his palm — a mixture of gold and scarlet.
The sound of bells filled the air again.
I gasped and woke.
---
The Archive ceiling loomed above me. My breath came shallow and uneven. The candle had burned down to wax and smoke.
Rowen stirred. "Elaris? What happened?"
I swallowed hard, pressing my palm against my chest. The mark beneath the skin was glowing again — faint, rhythmic. Like a heartbeat.
"He's awake," I whispered.
Rowen blinked, half-asleep. "Who?"
"The Heir."
That woke him completely. "Wait— you saw him?"
"I think… I felt him."
He leaned closer, the concern in his face making him look younger. "You're pale. Maybe it's the spell—"
"No," I said quickly. "It wasn't a vision. It was a tether. I saw him through it."
Rowen frowned. "You're saying the seal connected you?"
I nodded slowly. "The witch said I was his tether. I think this is what she meant. I can see through him — or he through me."
He rubbed his temples. "That's dangerous, Elaris. If the prophecy's real, then his awakening could destabilize everything — wards, realms, even—"
"—the Veil," I finished softly.
We looked at each other. Neither of us spoke for a long time. The rain had stopped. Outside, the city's skyline shimmered faintly in fog and moonlight.
Finally, Rowen stood. "We need to consult Thalindra again. Maybe there's a counterspell, something that can sever it."
I shook my head. "No. If we cut it too soon, it might kill him. Or me."
Rowen froze. "Kill you?"
"The bond feeds both ways. If he's what the prophecy says — a creature of dual blood — then his energy could unmake me if I break it wrong."
Rowen's voice trembled. "So what do we do?"
I hesitated. The thought had been circling my mind since I woke — dangerous, forbidden, but the only path that made sense.
"We find him," I said.
---
By dawn, the Archive corridors were filled with golden mist. The wards shimmered faintly — responding to something outside.
Rowen followed close as I descended the lower halls, where relics slept beneath glass. The faint hum of ancient sigils vibrated beneath our feet.
"The compass rune," I murmured, stopping before a sealed chest. "It tracks celestial residue. If he's awake, his essence will be detectable."
Rowen exhaled sharply. "You're serious."
I opened the chest. A soft blue light spilled out, forming a floating orb — the Compass of Threnar, forged to trace divine anomalies.
The light flickered once… then turned blood-red.
Rowen swore under his breath. "That's not supposed to happen."
"It's reacting," I said, voice low. "He's close."
"How close?"
I met his eyes. "Too close."
The orb pulsed faster, pulling toward the eastern horizon — toward the forests beyond the Veiled City.
The same direction from which the tremors had come.
I tightened my grip on the relic. The mark on my chest pulsed in rhythm with it.
"He's coming," I whispered.
---
That night, as the moon rose over the city's edge, the wind shifted again. The bells did not toll — but something else did.
A heartbeat.
Deep beneath the streets, echoing like thunder.
And miles away, in the shattered forest, Lucien Vaelrith stood at the edge of the ruins, the same red light flickering faintly against his palm.
He smiled.
> "So you've found me, Archivist."
The tether flared — unseen, eternal — binding their fates tighter.
And for the first time in centuries, the stars above the Veiled City began to move.