The wind howled like a wounded beast as Kael, Lin, and Aelira emerged from the remnants of the shrine. Behind them, the mountain trembled one final time, then fell silent, sealing away centuries of buried flame and shadow. But none of them looked back. Their eyes were fixed forward—toward the distant horizon, where the sky split with unnatural stormlight and a jagged spire pierced the heavens.
The Tower Beyond the Veil.
They had heard whispers of it in ancient scrolls and shattered murals. A fortress built at the confluence of worlds, sealed away after the collapse of the First Pact. No map had ever marked its location. No sage had ever spoken its true name aloud. And yet Kael knew. The ember in his chest burned with clarity now, guiding his steps as if the very earth remembered the road.
"We shouldn't be able to see it," Lin said quietly, clutching her arm where a fresh bandage wrapped her wound. "That tower exists outside the layers of this world. It... it shouldn't be here."
"It isn't," Aelira muttered, eyes narrowed. "Not entirely. Which means something is pulling it through."
Kael nodded. "Or someone."
They began their journey across a broken land. Where once there had been forests, now only ash remained. Great fissures split the ground, leaking silver mist that hummed with the remnants of aether. The wildlife was gone. The wind itself seemed to hesitate around them.
Days blurred. Dreams twisted. They passed forgotten monuments etched with languages none could decipher. Spirits lingered in the corners of their vision, watching, whispering. Lin heard them most clearly—murmurs of sorrow, warning, longing. But she said nothing, only held tighter to Kael's hand at night.
On the fifth night, the world changed.
They reached the Vale of Severance.
The ground was black glass, cracked and gleaming. The sky had no stars, only a pale disc that pulsed above the tower like a second sun. Lightning danced silently across the void.
And there, rising before them, was the Tower.
It was not built. It had grown, like a fang of night reaching up from the bones of creation. Doors of stone and bone loomed at its base, sealed with seven locks of light. Each bore a symbol—a broken chain, a weeping eye, a blade reversed, a crown split, a dying flame, a serpent devouring its tail, and finally, a sigil that matched the one burned into Kael's arm.
"We've found it," Kael whispered.
And the Tower answered.
The earth shook. The locks flared.
And one—the sigil—shattered.