The air in Veyrith stank of iron and decay, a metallic tang that clung to the back of Lira’s throat. She pulled her cloak tighter, fingers brushing the cold steel of the dagger at her hip. The city’s spires loomed above, their jagged peaks clawing at a sky choked with ash. No sun had touched Veyrith in a decade, not since the Veil fractured. The elders called it a blessing—a shield against the Hollow Things that prowled beyond the mist. Lira didn’t believe in blessings.
She turned down a narrow alley, boots crunching over broken glass. The walls here were thinner, their stone worn smooth by centuries of wind. A flicker of movement caught her eye—a shadow darting between two buildings. Lira froze, heart hammering. The Hollow Things didn’t move like that. They lurked, patient and silent, their formless bodies feeding on fear.
A voice cut through the silence, low and rasping. “You shouldn’t be here, girl.”
Lira spun, hand flying to her dagger. A man stood in the alley’s mouth, his face hidden beneath a tattered hood. His cloak was the same gray as the city’s smoke, blending with the shadows. “Who are you?” she demanded.
The man stepped closer, and Lira caught a glimpse of his eyes—pale, like moonlight on water. “You know who I am,” he said. “You’ve always known.”
The words slithered into her mind, familiar yet wrong. Lira’s breath quickened. “Leave me alone.” She took a step back, but the alley walls closed in, pressing against her shoulders.
The man tilted his head. “You think you can outrun what you are?” His voice softened, almost gentle. “The Veil’s thinning, Lira. The Hollow Things are coming. And when they do, they’ll take everything.”
A scream echoed from the main street, sharp and raw. Lira didn’t wait to hear more. She lunged forward, shoulder ramming into the man’s chest. He stumbled back, but his hand shot out, catching her wrist. His grip was like iron.
“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice now a growl. “You were never meant to live in the light.”
Lira wrenched free, bolts of pain shooting up her arm. She ran, feet slapping against the wet stones, the man’s laughter trailing behind her. The city blurred around her—flickering lanterns, faces pressed to windows, the distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer. She didn’t stop until she reached the old quarter, where the buildings leaned like tired men and the air smelled of damp wood and old secrets.
Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the latch on her door. Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the glow of a single candle. Lira paced, her mind racing. The man’s words gnawed at her—*You were never meant to live in the light.* What did that mean? Who was he? And why did his voice feel like a memory she’d forgotten?
A knock at the door made her jump. She froze, heart pounding. No one came here. Not since the Veil fell.
“Lira?” The voice was soft, uncertain. “It’s me.”
She hesitated, then crossed the room and cracked the door open. Her brother, Kael, stood there, his face pale under the flickering light. His clothes were soaked, his hair matted to his forehead. “You can’t stay here,” he said. “They’re looking for you.”
“Who?”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “The Council. They know what you did.”
Lira’s stomach dropped. “What did I do?”
He looked away, shame flickering across his face. “You opened the gate.”
The word hit her like a blow. Lira staggered back, hands gripping the doorframe. “No. That’s not true.”
“It is,” Kael said, his voice breaking. “I saw it. You stood in the square, chanting the old words. The Veil… it split open. And something came through.”
Lira’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. She wanted to deny it, to lash out, but the memory was there—foggy, fragmented, but real. A circle of stone, a whisper of wind, the taste of blood on her tongue. “I don’t remember,” she whispered.
“You were trying to save us,” Kael said. “But the Veil wasn’t just a shield. It was a prison. And you let them out.”
A sudden crash from outside made them both jump. Kael’s eyes went wide. “They’re here.”
Lira’s mind raced. The Council had always been after her family, but this—this was different. They weren’t just looking for her. They were hunting her.
“We have to leave,” she said, voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. “Now.”
Kael nodded, already moving. “There’s a tunnel. Behind the old bakery. If we can get there before they—”
A shout erupted from the street. Lira peered through the crack in the door. Two figures in dark robes stood beneath the flickering lamppost, their faces hidden. One of them raised a hand, and the air shimmered like heat rising from pavement.
“They’re using the old magic,” Kael murmured. “That’s why we have to go now.”
Lira grabbed her coat, hands shaking. The weight of the dagger felt foreign in her grip. She didn’t know what she was facing, but one thing was clear—the city she thought she knew was a lie, and the truth was waiting in the dark.
