Seraphina turned her head toward the approaching figure.
A whisper came from nowhere — or everywhere:
> "Ashborne... do you stand ready?"
She opened her palm.
Light gathered at the edges of her fingers — not bright, not wild.
Just true.
> "I stand," she answered.
"Even with half a flame, I stand."
The figure came no closer.
He stopped just beyond the ash-ring, standing where veillight met dusk. His face was hidden beneath a hood stitched with dying stars, and where his eyes should've been, only silver threads glowed — as if he had once seen everything… and was now only haunted by what remained.
Seraphina didn't flinch.
She held her ground, flame-flecked hand lowered, her child pulsing quietly within her.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The figure's voice was wind wrapped in memory.
"I am not an enemy," he said. "But I come with warning."
Ravon's hand tightened around his sword-hilt, but his strength was still drained. "Speak."
The figure raised one ash-covered finger and pointed to the veil overhead, where it still shimmered faintly — thin and unstable.
> "The veil has already been breached," he said.
"And those who were once silent… are no longer still
Elsewhere — The North
Beneath a sky of broken stars, the Silent King walked across mirrored frost. Each step he took shattered reflections of past wars — battles long buried but never forgotten.
His voice was carried on wind to the ears of his lieutenants:
> "Prepare the Veilpiercers.
We march at dusk."
In the mirrors, glimpses of Seraphina glimmered — but never her child. The king's brow furrowed.
> "The child already walks in shadows not even prophecy can reach.
That makes it dangerous.
---
Far Below — Hollow Sanctums
The Cradleless gathered beneath stone arches. Thousands knelt in silence, all cloaked, all sworn. The hooded woman stood on the altar of bones, her voice cold and without pity.
> "The Ashborne has awakened.
But the child still breathes borrowed time."
She raised her hand, and the air pulsed with forbidden power.
> "We strike at the hour of Unbreath.
Not a moment later."
---
Back to Seraphina…
The figure before her stepped closer, just enough to be seen.
His face was cracked stone — not old, but weathered by visions.
"I am called a Shardbearer," he said. "I hold memory that was once flame."
Seraphina blinked. "Memory of what?"
He didn't answer with words — but instead pressed a small, glowing shard into her palm. The moment it touched her skin, her breath left her.