The air hummed with the scent of rain-soaked earth as Kaela pressed her palm against the moss-caked stone, feeling the pulse beneath her fingers. The forest around her was still, as if holding its breath, but the ground trembled faintly, a secret whisper only she could hear. She had always felt it—the pull of something ancient, something waiting. Now, standing at the threshold of the ruined temple, she wondered if she’d finally found the source.
The entrance yawned before her, a jagged archway carved with symbols that glowed faintly in the dim light. Kaela’s breath came shallow as she stepped inside, her boots crunching over shattered tiles. The air grew colder, thick with the musk of damp stone and something else—metallic, like blood. Shadows clung to the walls, shifting when she wasn’t looking. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but the weight in her chest told her this was only the beginning.
A flicker of movement. Kaela spun, hand darting to the dagger at her belt. Nothing. Just the silence of the temple, broken by the drip of water from the ceiling. She forced herself forward, each step deliberate, until she reached a central chamber. At its heart stood a pedestal, atop which rested a crystalline shard, its surface swirling with hues of violet and gold. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
She reached out, fingers brushing the crystal’s edge. A surge of heat shot through her, and the world dissolved. Kaela gasped as she stumbled into a memory—not her own, but one etched into the stone itself. A woman, cloaked in silver, stood where she now stood, her hands raised toward the sky. Lightning crackled between her fingers, and the ground split open, revealing a chasm that swallowed the temple whole. The vision faded, leaving Kaela trembling.
The shard cooled in her grip, its glow dimming. She didn’t know if she’d just glimpsed the past or a warning. But the air had changed. Something was awake now, and it was looking for her.
—
The village of Marrow’s End had always been quiet, its people wary of outsiders and even quieter of the forest beyond their borders. Kaela had grown up listening to the old stories—of the temple swallowed by the earth, of those who ventured too close and never returned. But she’d never believed them. Not until the night the sky split open.
It had started with a sound, like a thousand glass shatters. The villagers gathered in the square, their faces pale as the sky above them turned an unnatural shade of blue. Kaela stood at the edge of the crowd, her hands clenched into fists. She’d felt it then—a shift in the air, a pull toward the forest that made her ribs ache. When the first bolt of light struck the chapel roof, she didn’t hesitate. She ran.
The villagers’ shouts faded behind her as she sprinted through the fields, her boots slapping against the mud. The forest loomed ahead, its trees bending as if bowing to an unseen force. Kaela didn’t stop until she reached the temple’s edge, where the air was thick with static. She could feel it—something vast and nameless, pressing against her mind like a tide.
A voice, not spoken but felt, echoed in her skull: *You are late.*
She spun, heart hammering. No one was there. Just the trees, their branches swaying despite the still air. Kaela tightened her grip on the shard, its surface now warm against her palm. Whatever had happened here, whatever had been buried, it wasn’t done yet.
—
The first creature came at dawn.
Kaela had spent the night in the temple’s outer halls, curled beside the shard as it pulsed with a soft, steady rhythm. She’d tried to sleep, but the silence was too heavy, the air too thick. Now, as sunlight filtered through the cracks in the stone, she heard it—a low, guttural growl that made her blood run cold.
She didn’t have time to react. A shadow lunged from the darkness, its form shifting between solid and mist. Kaela rolled aside as the thing’s claws scraped against the floor, leaving gashes in the stone. It was tall, too tall, its limbs elongated and jointed like a spider’s. Its eyes—two glowing orbs of red—locked onto her.
Kaela scrambled to her feet, clutching the shard. The creature snarled, its mouth stretching into a jagged grin. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew one thing: it wasn’t human. And it wanted her dead.
She ran, the creature in pursuit, its claws skittering behind her. The temple’s corridors twisted around her, unfamiliar and shifting. Kaela didn’t stop until she reached the central chamber, where the pedestal stood. The shard in her hand flared bright, and the creature hesitated, its form flickering.
*What are you?* she thought, not speaking. The voice from before answered, but it wasn’t a voice at all—it was a feeling, a presence that filled her mind: *A guardian. A remnant. A promise.*
The creature lunged again, but this time Kaela didn’t run. She raised the shard, and light exploded from it, washing over the chamber. The creature shrieked, its form dissolving into smoke. When the light faded, it was gone.
Kaela collapsed to her knees, her breath ragged. The shard dimmed in her hand, its glow fading. She didn’t know what she’d just done, but the temple was silent again. For now.
—
The man found her the next day.
She hadn’t left the temple, not truly. The corridors had become her world, the stone walls her only companions. She’d tried to make sense of the shard, of the visions it showed her—of a world before this one, of a war fought in shadows. But the answers were always just out of reach, like a song half-remembered.
The man appeared at the threshold of the chamber, his boots crunching on the broken tiles. He was tall, his coat worn but sturdy, and his eyes—dark and sharp—studied her with quiet intensity. Kaela didn’t move. She’d learned to be careful.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, his voice low, measured.
She didn’t answer. What was there to say? That she’d been drawn here, that the shard had called to her? That the forest itself had whispered her name?
The man stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the shard in her hand. “That thing—it’s not safe.”
“It’s all I have,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her fingers.
He studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “Come with me. If you’re going to stay, you need to know what’s coming.”
Kaela hesitated. She didn’t trust him, not yet. But the temple was no longer safe, and the visions had grown clearer. Whatever was waiting for her, it was getting closer.
She stood, tucking the shard into her coat. “Where are we going?”
The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “To the edge of the world.”
—
The journey took them beyond the forest, past rivers that ran black and mountains that whispered in a language she couldn’t understand. Kaela learned quickly—how to read the stars, how to track beasts that left no footprints, how to listen to the silence between heartbeats. The man, who called himself Dain, was a guide and a guard, his knowledge of the land as deep as the roots of the oldest trees.
But even Dain didn’t know everything.
They reached the edge of the world at dusk, where the land fell away into a vast chasm. A bridge of stone stretched across it, its surface etched with the same symbols Kaela had seen in the temple. She ran her fingers over the carvings, feeling the hum of something ancient beneath her touch.
Dain stopped beside her, his expression unreadable. “This is where it begins.”
Kaela didn’t ask what he meant. She already knew. The shard in her pocket pulsed, and the air grew heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
A sound—like a thousand voices speaking at once. The bridge trembled. Kaela turned, heart pounding, as figures emerged from the shadows. Not men, not beasts—something else. Their forms shifted, their eyes glowing like embers in the dark.
Dain drew his blade. “Stay behind me.”
Kaela didn’t move. She didn’t have to. The shard flared in her hand, and the figures hesitated. For a moment, the world was still. Then the battle began.
—
The fight was over before it started.
Kaela didn’t remember drawing the shard, but it was in her hand, glowing with a light that cut through the darkness. The figures lunged, but the light repelled them, their forms dissolving into smoke. Dain fought beside her, his blade flashing in the dim light. But even as they fell, more came—shadows with too many limbs, eyes that saw through the veil of the world.
Kaela didn’t know how long they fought. Time blurred, the world narrowing to the glow of the shard and the sound of her own breath. Then, suddenly, it was over. The last figure dissolved, and silence fell again.
Dain collapsed to one knee, his breath ragged. Kaela knelt beside him, her hands trembling. The shard in her grip was cold now, its light dim. She didn’t know if it had saved them or just delayed the inevitable.
“We can’t stay here,” Dain said, his voice hoarse. “They’ll come again.”
Kaela nodded. She didn’t have a plan, no clear path forward. But she knew one thing—this was only the beginning. The world was changing, and she was part of it now.
As they turned back toward the forest, the shard in her hand pulsed once more, a final whisper in her mind: *The Veil is thin. And it is breaking.*
