The wind outside Elara's window blew violently, sweeping dead leaves in swirling circles under the pale moonlight. It had been hours since anyone in the academy had gone to sleep, but Elara remained wide awake, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the obsidian pendant around her neck.
Ever since the events in the forbidden wing, things hadn't been the same.
Mirrors reflected the wrong angles. Candles flickered without wind. Doors creaked open even when locked.
And tonight—tonight felt different. Like something was coming.
She paced her room slowly, glancing every few seconds at the tall mirror in the corner. It had once been ornate and polished, but now its edges were dull, the glass smeared with fingerprints that weren't hers.
She hadn't dared to clean it.
Not since the voice first spoke through it.
"You're not ready, Elara… but the veil doesn't wait."
The memory sent a chill through her.
Tonight, she heard that voice again. Muffled, like someone whispering beneath layers of fabric or fog. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the mirror, waiting. Her heartbeat echoed like a drum inside her ears.
"Return what was taken…" the whisper floated through the air again, soft but unmistakable.
"Elara."
She froze.
This time, the voice wasn't from the mirror.
It came from the shadows.
Elara shot up and backed against the wall. "Who's there?"
A soft blue glow lit up the corner of her room, revealing a figure—not human, not entirely. Translucent robes, silver eyes, and markings that looked ancient as time itself.
A Warden of the Veil.
They were said to be extinct. Legends. But here it was, floating inches above the floor.
"You opened the gate," the figure said. Its voice was deep, like thunder muffled by centuries. "You carry the pendant. The bloodline recognizes you."
"I didn't mean to open anything!" Elara's voice trembled. "I just… I just wanted to know the truth."
"Truth is a dangerous thing," the Warden whispered. "And once it awakens, it demands sacrifice."
The light flickered.
Suddenly, the Warden was gone. Only a strange, icy scent lingered in the room.
Then her mirror cracked—a thin, jagged line slicing straight down the center.
Elara stepped closer, heart pounding.
Behind her reflection, for a split second, she saw another face.
A girl. Almost identical to her. But with raven-black eyes and a cruel smile.
Then it vanished.
Elara turned slowly, but there was no one behind her.
Not yet.
Her knees grew weak, and she slumped onto the bed. She needed answers. She needed to speak with someone who understood magic—real magic—not just what the academy pretended to teach.
She needed to see Lucien. He had secrets too. Secrets he hadn't yet trusted her with. But maybe… just maybe… he knew what the veil truly was.
And why it was thinning.
The wind outside howled louder, and the moonlight turned an eerie crimson.
The veil had spoken.
There was no turning back now.