The night came heavy with rain.
Elira hadn't spoken since the fight. The others had fallen asleep near the dying fire, but she stayed sitting, the sword laid across her knees.
Lumeveil's edge reflected no flame — only her face, pale and faint beneath the flicker.
She whispered, "Why are you doing this to me?"
No answer. Only a faint pulse through the blade, cold as breath on glass.
Then her vision blurred.
The forest, the fire, Kael's soft snore — all melted into black.
And she was falling.
There was no ground. No sky. Just endless gray light pressing from every side.
The air weighed like stone. Each inhale felt like dragging iron into her chest.
"Lumeveil?" she called, voice breaking. "Where are you?"
A ripple of sound answered — not a voice, but something deeper, like a thought forming from the air itself.
"You seek me again, child of light and shadow…
Yet you cannot bear either."
She turned in place.
A figure appeared before her — tall, faceless, its body shaped like the sword she carried. The blade's reflection towered over her, and its glow made the emptiness tremble.
"When your father begged for power, he swore it was for the world.
When he broke, he said it was for love.
Tell me, Elira… what will your excuse be?"
Her breath hitched. "I don't need one."
The pressure built. Her knees buckled. She fell to one hand, the weight crushing her lungs.
"Stop it—"
"You are not strong enough."
Her bones ached. The gray began to bleed into black.
She saw flashes — Kyder kneeling, his sword shattered, Tina's hand reaching toward him — and blood. Endless, brilliant blood.
"Stop showing me that!" she shouted. "I'm not him!"
The faceless shadow tilted its head.
"Then prove it."
The pressure twisted tighter. Her arms trembled. She screamed, but no sound came out — only silence and the weight of failure.
And in that silence, something cracked.
She heard her heartbeat — slow, steady, stubborn.
She dug her hand into the nothingness beneath her, forcing herself upright inch by inch.
"I'm scared," she gasped. "I fail. I fall. But I don't stop!"
Light began to bleed from her palm, threads of silver winding up her arm, wrapping around the sword that had once rejected her.
"I don't need to be perfect," she whispered. "I just need to stand."
She lifted Lumeveil and shouted,
"Veil the shadow—crown the light!"
The void shattered.
White fire burst outward, consuming the pressure, tearing through the black.
For a heartbeat, everything vanished — only her voice, the sword, and the pulse that answered.
"Then stand.
And I will stand with you."
She woke to sunlight filtering through the trees.
Mira and Kael were beside her, eyes wide.
"Elira! You weren't breathing!" Mira cried, shaking her shoulder.
Elira coughed, air flooding back into her lungs. The fire was cold. The night was gone.
"How… long?"
"Almost till dawn," Kael said, trying not to sound worried. "We couldn't wake you."
Lumeveil rested across her knees again — but this time, it shone softly, steady and alive.
The Axis Veil flickered before her eyes:
[System Notice]
• Spirit Synchronization Restored
• Level: 82% (Stable)
• Weapon: Lumeveil (Rebonded)
• Passive Gained — Lumeveil Accord: Light and Shadow harmonize under user's will.
Mira exhaled in relief. "At least you didn't explode."
Kael grinned faintly. "Looks like the sword finally stopped arguing."
Elira smiled — small, but real. "We came to an agreement."
Behind them, Haco leaned against a tree, arms crossed. His voice cut through the quiet.
"Don't celebrate yet," he said. "That was just the first one."
They turned. "The first… what?" Mira asked.
"The first trial," Haco said simply, his golden eyes unreadable. "There'll be more. Each worse than the last."
Elira looked down at the sword. The blade gleamed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
"I'll try to face them all."
Haco's tail flicked once — approval, hidden beneath weariness.
"Good," he murmured. "You'll need to."