The twin moons hung high in the sky, casting a pale blue glow across the courtyard of Lysariel's sanctuary. The silken leaves of the silverblossom trees shimmered in the breeze, creating the illusion of a starfield swaying gently with the wind. Elira stood still beneath them, her arms crossed and her eyes searching the horizon. Something felt wrong.
She had felt it for days—an undercurrent of something ancient, something forgotten trying to claw its way back into the world. The veil between realms was thinning again. Not because of the portals. Not because of the Veilcracks. This was different.
Behind her, the soft click of boots on stone echoed toward her. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"You're awake," Kael said, his voice quieter than usual.
"I haven't been sleeping," Elira replied. "There's something stirring in the Ether."
Kael moved to stand beside her. The moons painted silver along the lines of his jaw and the dark fall of his hair. He looked tired, though not from battle—this weariness was deeper.
"You feel it too," she added, finally turning to face him.
"I dreamt of the black citadel again," he said slowly. "But this time, it wasn't in ruins. There were torches lit. Voices chanting. And a figure standing on the highest tower, arms raised… calling something through the veil."
Elira's pulse quickened. She grabbed his wrist, ignoring the shock of energy that passed between them.
"Kael, we have to talk to Lysariel. If someone is trying to tear the veil, especially from inside the cursed dominion, the consequences—"
"—would be catastrophic," Kael finished. "I know."
They hurried into the sanctum, past the marble archways and floating crystals, to the inner sanctum where Lysariel usually meditated. But when they arrived, the high priestess was already waiting—standing, not meditating—with a grim expression carved into her ageless face.
"I felt the disturbance," Lysariel said before either of them could speak. "It's not a tear. It's a summoning."
Elira's heart sank. "From where?"
"From the Forgotten Fold," Lysariel whispered. "The place that should never be touched."
Kael frowned. "That place is sealed. The Ancients bound it with divine runes. No mortal should be able to access it."
"No mortal," Lysariel echoed. "But not all who walk this world are merely mortal anymore. One of the Seven Keys has been taken."
Elira stepped back as if struck. The Seven Keys… relics meant to maintain balance between realms, forged from stardust and bound by ancient oaths. If even one key had been compromised…
"Which one?" she asked.
Lysariel's lips parted, hesitant. "The Key of Echoes. The one that anchors memory to time. If corrupted, it could rewrite history—or erase it entirely."
The implications were too terrifying to speak aloud.
"We need to retrieve it," Kael said, fists clenched.
Lysariel gave a slow nod. "But the path is no longer stable. The Forgotten Fold cannot be entered through conventional means. You must seek the Obsidian Gateway hidden beneath the Mirror Lake of Mythelen."
Elira's breath caught. "That's deep in the Ruined Reaches. It's cursed ground."
"And it's where your answers lie," Lysariel replied.
As they left the sanctum to prepare, the sanctuary trembled faintly—a warning ripple through the veil. Shadows danced strangely under moonlight. Far in the distance, a low hum echoed through the air. The kind of sound that made the skin crawl, as if the very air had begun to remember something long buried.
Back in her chamber, Elira packed her satchel, tying it with trembling fingers. Kael entered quietly, carrying the twin-bladed glaive she hadn't seen since their first encounter.
"I thought you said you'd never wield it again," she said, glancing at the darksteel weapon.
"I said I hoped I wouldn't have to," he replied. "But hope isn't a strategy anymore."
She nodded solemnly. As they left the sanctuary behind, heading toward danger once again, Elira glanced back one last time.
This wasn't just another mission. Something was changing in the bones of the world, in the rhythm of fate itself. The story wasn't just unfolding—it was being rewritten.
And if they didn't act fast, there wouldn't be a story left to save.