The Masked Spire was falling apart.
Not in how stone crumbles under siege, but in how worlds break—pieces of reality shearing away from each other, chunks of floor floating up into the air, gravity bending in jagged fits.
The Veil above them wasn't just torn now—it was splintered, bleeding starlight and shadow alike.
Iris didn't look back.
She half-dragged, half-supported Nyx up the winding stair as the walls shifted around them. Once-solid corridors now looped into themselves. Doors opened to nothing but a void.
"Keep moving," she gasped.
Nyx's voice was a rasp. "We're not… going to make it."
"Not with that attitude," she shot back, but her breath was ragged.
Behind them, Thalen was still fighting.
His armor caught the light in bursts as he clashed with the Lord of Masks, each blow shaking the air. Stars fell like sparks every time blade met hand.
The watch in Iris's palm ticked faster. Not seconds—warnings.
She stopped. "We can't leave him."
Nyx shook his head. "We have to. If the Veil closes, we're all trapped."
Iris bit her lip, torn. The Veil's edges were knitting themselves back together—slowly, but enough to see the danger. If they waited too long, it would be sealed, and the spire would be cut adrift into the Astral Fold forever.
Then Thalen's voice rang out:
"Go!"
The stairs twisted under their feet.
One step was solid. The next dropped into endless night. Nyx stumbled, and Iris tightened her grip, hauling him back before he vanished.
The Veil's tear was in sight now—a jagged arch of silver light.
They reached it just as the air shifted. It pulled at them, tugging their bodies toward the tear like a tide.
"Jump!" Iris yelled.
They threw themselves forward.
The moment they crossed, the world slammed into place again.
They landed hard on the Garden of Night's soil, the scent of briar and moonlight filling their lungs. Behind them, the spire's silhouette wavered—and was swallowed whole by the Veil.
Silence fell.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Nyx lay on his back, chest heaving, eyes shut. Iris leaned against a twisted tree, clutching the watch so hard it left marks in her palm.
Finally, Nyx broke the quiet.
"He showed me things."
Iris looked over. "The Lord?"
"No," Nyx said. His gaze met hers. "The Astral One."
The words hung heavy between them.
"He… or it… doesn't speak the way we do," Nyx continued. "It shows. Feeds you truths like they're memories. And you can't tell where you end and it begins."
"What did you see?" Iris asked softly.
Nyx's throat worked. "A thousand endings. They all start the same—the Veil breaks, the Heart shatters, and the Courts fall. But in some… we survive."
"Survive how?"
"That's the part I don't know." He sat up slowly. "But Iris… in every ending where we live, you're there. And so am I. Always."
She swallowed. "And the mark?"
Nyx glanced over his shoulder, pulling his shirt collar aside.
The sigils glowed faintly, starlight moving beneath his skin like living ink. They shifted constantly, never repeating the same pattern twice.
"It's a map," he said. "Not of a place. Of a path."
Her eyes widened. "To what?"
He gave a humorless smile. "The rest of the Astral One."
Before she could respond, the ground shuddered.
A ripple passed through the Garden—like a shadow underwater. The trees bent, leaves turning black at the edges.
From the far side of the clearing, Thalen emerged.
He was alive—but barely.
His armor was cracked, his face pale, his sword edge burned with strange silver fire.
"You got him," Thalen said hoarsely, glancing at Nyx. "Good."
"What about your uncle?" Iris asked.
Thalen's jaw tightened. "He's gone. The Veil took him."
"Gone… gone?" Nyx asked.
"No," Thalen said, sheathing his sword. "He'll find a way back. He always does."
The watch ticked once.
And then again.
It opened.
Inside, the silver map had changed—its constellations no longer matched Faerun's sky. They twisted into the same shifting pattern on Nyx's back.
Iris felt her stomach drop. "It's the same."
Nyx nodded grimly. "Then I'm right."
Thalen frowned. "Right about what?"
"That we're not chasing the Heart anymore," Nyx said, standing despite the pain. "We're chasing it. And when we find it, the Astral One will be waiting."
The wind shifted.
Somewhere deep in the Garden, a black rose bloomed. Its petals fell in slow motion, and where they touched the earth, the ground turned to glass.
Iris closed the watch.
"We need to move."
"Where?" Thalen asked.
She looked between the two of them, feeling the pull of the mark, the ticking of the watch, and the faint whisper in her mind that was not her own.
"Beyond the Courts," she said. "To the edge of the Veil. If the Astral One wants a path, we'll follow it first."
Nyx raised an eyebrow. "That's not a plan. That's—"
"It's the only way," she cut in.
And as they set off into the silver-lit dark, none of them noticed the shadow watching from the fractured sky.
The Lord of Masks.
Smiling.