The storm had been building since dawn, but it wasn't the thunder that unsettled Lyra most. It was the silence that filled the spaces between the cracks in the sky, the way the world seemed to hold its breath.
She stared at the map Lucien had given her, its edges crinkled from years of use. The ink was faded, and some of the lines had blurred, but the destination was clear: Caer Theron—or rather, the ruins of it.
The Hollow Mirror.
The place where the Veil had first been torn open, where the gods had once whispered their will, and where the Wraiths had first entered the mortal realm. It was here, she knew, that the truth of their endless cycle lay hidden.
"I still don't understand why it's us who have to do this," Kai muttered, standing at the edge of the abandoned courtyard, the rain falling in heavy sheets. His voice cut through the storm, but his frustration was obvious.
"Because we're the ones who broke it," Lucien said simply, his tone almost tired. He was standing at the far end of the courtyard, staring out toward the distant hills. "All of us. In one way or another."
Lyra bit her lip, the weight of his words settling on her like an unseen burden. She hadn't meant to be caught up in this, hadn't meant for the destruction to follow them into this life. But she had to admit, they had no choice now.
The storm seemed to intensify, the wind howling as if the very air was rejecting their efforts to change the course of fate. But Lyra steeled herself. The Mirror was close. So close she could feel its pull, as if it were reaching out to her, calling her home.
"I don't know if I can do this," Lyra said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. The words sounded strange, even to her, but they had weight. Heavy weight.
"You've been doing it for centuries," Lucien said, his voice softer now. He turned, his gaze catching hers, and for a moment, there was no mask, no layers of guilt or fear. Just the two of them—two souls tangled together, lost in the same history. "It's what we're meant to do. We're the ones who carry the burden of the broken Veil."
"Is it worth it?" Kai's voice was bitter, but it held something else—something unspoken, a yearning for answers that could never truly be answered. "Is the truth worth all this destruction?"
Lucien didn't answer right away. He simply glanced down at the old map again, his fingers tracing the faded lines. He had made his choice years ago, and now it was all they could do to follow him.
"I don't know," Lucien said finally. "But we'll find out."
The journey to the ruins of Caer Theron felt longer than it should have. The land was treacherous, the weather relentless, and every step seemed to pull them deeper into a world that no longer belonged to them.
The Hollow Mirror was hidden beneath the ruins of the castle, buried within the heart of what had once been a powerful kingdom. Only fragments of the old city remained—broken walls, empty towers, and the remnants of a past that could never be reclaimed.
As they approached the gates of the ruins, Lyra could feel the air shift. There was something alive about this place, something ancient, as if the land itself was waiting for them to return.
"Stay close," Lucien murmured, and they entered together.
The stones underfoot were slippery with rain, and the wind howled through the skeletal remains of the castle. It felt like a place out of time—where past and present blurred, where nothing was quite real and yet everything felt heavy with meaning.
"Where do we go from here?" Kai asked, his voice tense. He was watching the shadows as they crept along the ruins, wary of every movement.
Lucien didn't answer right away. He stood in the center of the courtyard, his face pale, eyes narrowed. He was listening to something—something only he could hear.
The air hummed.
A low, throbbing sound, like the pulse of a heart.
"The Mirror," Lucien whispered. "It's here."
Lyra felt it, too. The pull. The hum.
The Hollow Mirror.
She turned, her eyes scanning the ruins, and there—beneath the old stone archways—she saw it. A shimmering crack in the fabric of reality, a rift too large for any illusion to hide.
It pulsed with a dark energy, a swirling void that seemed to breathe in rhythm with the world around it. Her heart stilled.
Lucien stepped forward, his hand reaching out toward the crack in the world.
"No," Lyra said, her voice sharp. "Not yet."
Lucien stopped. He looked at her, his face unreadable.
"It's too dangerous," she continued, shaking her head. "We don't know what this will do."
"You think I don't know that?" Lucien's voice was low, strained. "We don't have a choice anymore, Lyra. The Veil is collapsing. The Wraiths are already inside our world, waiting for the right moment. If we don't close the Mirror, if we don't seal the fracture, it will consume everything."
"Then we close it," she said firmly, "but we do it carefully. We can't just throw ourselves into this blindly."
Kai stepped forward, glancing between them. "Lyra's right. We need to be careful. If we fail—"
"We won't," Lucien interrupted. He turned back to the crack in the world, his gaze narrowing. "We can't fail."
He extended his hand toward the rift once more, this time with purpose.
Lyra watched him, her heart in her throat. "Lucien—"
But it was too late.
The moment his fingers brushed the edge of the rift, the world around them seemed to freeze. The air grew thick, oppressive, and the wind howled like a living thing. Then came the sound—a terrible, shrieking wail that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
The Wraiths.
Lyra felt them before she saw them, a presence in her mind, clawing at her consciousness, testing her resolve. It was like drowning in the dark—no light, no hope, just them.
And they were waiting.
Lucien pulled his hand back, and the rift pulsed violently, sending a wave of force through the courtyard that knocked them all off their feet.
"Lucien!" Lyra cried, scrambling to her feet. "What did you do?!"
Lucien was on his knees, eyes wide, his breath shallow. The crack in the Veil was growing—widening like a mouth about to devour them whole.
"I…" His voice faltered. "I didn't mean to."
The ground trembled beneath their feet.
The Hollow Mirror was no longer a fracture in reality—it was a doorway.
And something on the other side was coming.