The veil between worlds thinned in the hour before dawn.
Not with ceremony. Not with thunder or divine light. But with quiet. A hush so deep it swallowed even the wind. Ravenhold slept, unaware of the crack forming in the sky above its highest spire, where moonlight split like shattered glass.
Seraphina stood at the temple ruins on the cliff's edge, alone but for the whispers that had followed her since birth. Her cloak dragged through dew-slick grass, her fingers stained with the ink of forgotten spells. The Book of Hollow Tongues lay open at her feet, pages fluttering despite the stillness.
The ritual had already begun.
Symbols glowed faintly on her skin, not ink but memory. An inheritance older than her bloodline. Older than the curse.
The bond with Valen was gone, but in its place had bloomed something darker. A voice. A power. A presence that called itself The Pale Flame.
"Speak," it whispered now, from within her marrow. "Ask, and the moon will answer."
Seraphina looked skyward. The crescent moon had turned red at the edges, bleeding into the stars. Her voice broke the silence like a blade breaking bone.
"I want the gods to see what they've made."
The wind surged suddenly. Leaves spun in a silver whirlwind. The cliff cracked beneath her, ancient stone moaning under the weight of something waking.
The spell surged to completion.
And she saw.
Not the gods themselves—but their prison. A shimmering vault beneath the world, forged from time and sacrifice. And something inside that vault stirred. Not holy. Not divine. But vengeful.
Seraphina stumbled back, breath ragged, heart hammering.
Then she heard footsteps.
Not Mira.
Not Valen.
But him.
High Warden Kael.
He emerged from the mist like a blade drawn from a scabbard, armor etched with runes that pulsed with judgment. His face unreadable. His eyes—amber and ancient.
"You've opened a door," he said.
Seraphina stood straighter, magic crackling in her veins. "And I'll tear it from its hinges if I must."
He didn't flinch. "You seek vengeance. But what of the cost?"
"Let the gods count it. I'm done paying."
The wind howled between them, but neither moved. The moon above flickered once—and then went dark.
The veil had shattered.