The candlelight flickered against the cottage walls as Chizzy stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror. Her eyes, once a soft brown, now shimmered faintly with a silver hue—subtle, but undeniable. Ever since the ritual in the forest, something had changed. Not just in the world around her.
In her.
Kiran paced behind her, the tension in his movements clear. "You haven't slept in two days."
"I can't," she whispered, her voice tight. "Every time I close my eyes, I see that circle. I hear the chant again—and something more."
He paused. "More?"
She turned to face him. "A voice. But not like before. It's not hostile… it's ancient. Familiar."
Kiran frowned, his brows knitting. "You think it's connected to the blade?"
"No." She glanced down at the Blade of Oath lying on the table. "It's older. I think it's tied to my blood."
She rolled back her sleeve, revealing her forearm. The birthmark she'd carried all her life—a swirling pattern like a coiled serpent—now glowed faintly with violet light.
Kiran stared at it. "That wasn't glowing before."
"No," she murmured. "But now it burns. Like it's waking up."
A knock at the door shattered the moment. Kiran moved first, yanking the door open with dagger in hand.
It was Maku, breathless and pale. "You need to come. Now. It's Talia."
They raced across the village to the healer's hut. Talia lay on a straw bed, shivering, her skin slick with sweat. Her eyes fluttered behind closed lids, lips moving silently.
"She won't wake," the healer said. "And the mark on her chest—it's glowing, just like Chizzy's."
Chizzy stepped closer, heart thudding. She knelt beside Talia, brushing the girl's damp hair aside. There, over her heart, a faint sigil pulsed beneath the skin—a mirror image of the one on Chizzy's arm.
"She's connected to me," Chizzy whispered. "They did something to her in the circle."
"But why her?" Kiran asked. "Why not someone else?"
Chizzy didn't answer right away. Her mind reeled with fragments—the whispers, the shadows, the gate in the forest.
"They're trying to divide the seal," she said at last. "One part in me, one in her. If we're both weakened—if they corrupt even one of us—they can force the rift open."
Maku gasped softly. "Then they've made her a vessel."
Chizzy stood, a resolve taking shape in her chest. "Then I have to go back to the ruins. The stones held something—an answer. Maybe a counter-ritual."
Kiran stepped forward. "You're not going alone."
"I need you to stay," she said. "Watch Talia. If something changes, if she wakes… or worse…"
He hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Be careful."
As Chizzy left the hut, the wind shifted. Cold and sudden. From the woods, a howl rose—low and long, like the cry of something ancient and broken.
She turned toward the Ashwood.
Toward the ruins.
And toward the truth.
The forest seemed to know she was coming. The trees leaned in, branches forming tunnels of shadow and moonlight. The deeper she went, the clearer the whispers became—not like the hostile voices from the Hollow, but mournful, melodic… pleading.
When she reached the ruins, the stones still glowed faintly beneath the moss. She stepped into the circle, and everything stopped.
The wind. The sound. Even her heartbeat.
Then the voice returned—clear and commanding, echoing within her very bones.
"Blood of the Veil… You are not the end. You are the beginning."
A surge of energy rushed through her, dropping her to her knees. Her mark flared, and behind her eyes, visions came.
Flashes of another realm. A city of light swallowed by shadow. A temple on fire. A woman who looked just like her—screaming as darkness took her.
And a promise made long before Chizzy ever drew breath.
A promise she now had to fulfill.