The sealed box sat quietly on Eila's lap, its intricate silver etchings glinting in the early morning light. She had stared at it long enough, waiting for the right moment, hoping for guidance, a sign — but none came.
Only the heavy stillness of her room, and her thundering heartbeat.
She took a deep breath, her fingers trembling as she placed them over the lock. The moment she whispered the incantation she had found scribbled in the margins of the prophecy scroll, something clicked inside the box — not just a mechanical sound, but something deeper, more ancient. A faint pulse of warmth spread across her fingertips.
The seal cracked open.
A low hum emanated from within, like the stirring of a song that hadn't been sung for centuries.
Inside, resting atop a velvet-lined hollow, lay a single, crystalline feather — glowing faintly with shifting hues of white and gold. The moment her fingers brushed it, the room dissolved around her.
She was no longer in her room.
She was inside the vision.
It was dusk in a land lost to time. Crimson skies bled into mountains cloaked in shadow, and on a cliff overlooking a war-torn valley stood a woman with hair like woven flame. Her eyes mirrored Eila's own — except wiser, wearier.
Venera.
She wore armor adorned with lunar runes and a cloak of silver ash. Before her, hundreds of beings knelt — not just wolves, but witches, seers, and some unknown creatures. She held a staff carved from obsidian and crystal, and behind her, the sky flickered with threads of rifted light — the Veil, thin and unstable.
Eila saw the war raging beneath the surface of that memory. Saw Venera lead a united force against the first Summoner of Varium — a man cloaked in rusted robes, eyes glowing red like burning coals, his laughter slicing the air like a dagger.
Eila watched Venera fall. Rise again. Fall once more. Sacrifice everything to trap the Summoner within the Veil — sealing it with her own life, and with the prophecy written in her blood.
The vision began to collapse.
But not before Venera looked directly at her and whispered:
"It takes three anchors to hold the Veil… and only one fracture to break it. Guard your heart, mate of the Triad. For he who breaks your soul shall unmake the world."
Eila gasped as she jolted back into her room.
Sweat soaked her dress. The feather had vanished — crumbled to ash in the box.
But something in the air had changed.
Far, far away — in a region cloaked in dark fog and twisted woods — Jeremy Soren screamed.
His back arched unnaturally, as the black mark branded on his chest flared crimson. The Varium beasts around him snarled and hissed, confused and agitated. A shiver ran through the magical current that fed his corrupted power.
"The seal…" he rasped, barely able to breathe. "She found it… she's awakened the memory."
He stumbled back, gripping the twisted altar he had been chanting over. His eyes burned with new fury.
"She dares awaken Venera's soul?"
"Then let the second seal break in fire."
He raised his arm toward the sky, muttering words in the forbidden tongue. The clouds above churned unnaturally. The wind shrieked through the trees.
From the shadows of the woods, a ripple formed.
A gateway — incomplete, but flickering.
The Veil was responding.
Back in the Moon Treasure Pack, Eila stumbled to her feet. Her body ached, but her mind burned with clarity.
She couldn't ignore it anymore. This wasn't just about her. This wasn't just about her mates or her family.
She was Venera's successor.
She was the living lock on the door of the Veil.
And Jeremy Soren… had just started forcing it open again