Ava
The morning after the harbor felt too still. The sea had stopped whispering, but the silence it left behind was worse. I woke to the sound of nothing. No gulls, no waves, only the hollow creak of the wind moving through the shutters. The air felt heavy, like a held breath that the town could not release.
I moved through the shop on instinct, lighting candles, straightening jars, pretending that the world had not changed. But the Veil's hum was inside me now, soft but insistent, threading through every thought. The fishermen's words still echoed in my head.
She is chosen.
Outside, Havenscove moved like a dream. People walked slower than usual, voices hushed, eyes hollow. A woman passing by carried a basket of herbs, but the leaves had blackened before she reached the corner. The sickness was spreading faster than anyone could understand.
Tata Sofia appeared at the door before I could even call for her. "The boy?" she asked. Her shawl clung to her shoulders like a second skin, her face lined with fear that she refused to name.
"He is alive," I said quietly. "Sleeping, but not resting."
"He carries the shadow's touch." She stepped inside, looking around the room. "You should not be here, Ava. The Veil is pulling you closer every hour."
"I cannot leave them," I said. "If the sickness reaches the upper town, there will be no stopping it."
Tata's voice softened. "Then take care. Every act of mercy draws you deeper into its call."
She left without another word, and I stood in the quiet, listening to the heartbeat of the sea through the walls. It was faint, uneven, as if the ocean itself were trying to remember how to breathe.
---
By midday, the harbor was worse. The streets near the docks were slick with salt and ash. The air shimmered faintly, the light wrong. Every sound felt distant, muffled beneath something unseen. The infected lay in lines across the dockside, their veins gleaming black and silver in the light.
I knelt beside one of them, a woman I had known for years. Her eyes rolled beneath closed lids, her lips moving soundlessly. When I touched her, her pulse jumped beneath my fingers, but what I felt was not life. It was Casimir's heartbeat.
The same rhythm. The same pulse. It made my breath falter.
When I drew the sickness from her, the veins faded slightly, but pain shot through me so sharp that I gasped. Somewhere far away, I knew Casimir had felt it too.
I pulled my hand back, trembling. My vision blurred for a moment, the world narrowing to the sound of my own breath. When I looked again, the woman's body had gone still. Her skin was pale, her veins silver instead of black. I had saved her, but something of me had gone with her.
---
Casimir
I found her on her knees, the wind pulling at her hair, the light around her dim and strange. Every instinct in me screamed to get her away from the water. The dock was alive with the Veil's pulse; I could feel it in the boards beneath my feet, the air around me.
"You should not be here," I said. "This sickness is not natural. It is the Veil learning to move."
She looked up at me, her face pale, her eyes wild. "If I do nothing, they will die."
"If you keep touching it, you will die."
She stood slowly, swaying. Her hands glowed faintly with the same light that burned under my skin.
"I am already part of it, Casimir. You know that."
The truth of it hit harder than it should have. The mark that bound us pulsed once, and I felt the echo of her heartbeat against mine. I wanted to drag her away, to lock her behind stone and silence, but I could not. The Veil had already chosen her, marked her.
Nicholas appeared at the edge of the dock, his expression grim. "The King's condition worsens," he said. "The healers say his blood runs black."
"The same sickness," I said quietly. "The Veil is feeding on both realms."
Nicholas looked at Ava, then back at me. "If it spreads, we will have no kingdom left to rule."
I turned to him. "Then tell me how to stop it."
He shook his head. "You know what must be done."
Burn the infected. End the link. Contain the spread. Every word that was left unsaid burned in the air between us.
"No," Ava said before I could speak. "These people are not lost. Not yet."
Her defiance stirred something that had nothing to do with power, a fierce protectiveness, "You cannot save everyone."
"I can try."
"You will break yourself."
She met my eyes, unflinching. "Then let me."
The words silenced everything around us. My wolf growled with the protectiveness that mirrored my own. The wind stilled. Even the sea seemed to listen.
I wanted to shake her, to make her understand that mercy had teeth, that it would eat her alive. But I could not bring myself to break her hope.
When she swayed again, I caught her before she fell. Her skin burned against mine, heat and cold all at once. Light spilled faintly from the place where our hands met, soft as breath, dangerous as fire. I could feel the Veil in her pulse, its rhythm steady, possessive. It was feeding through her.
Nicholas turned away. "If the Veil keeps drawing from her, there will be nothing left to bind it. She is the heart of it now."
"I know," I said. My voice felt hollow.
---
Ava
The next thing I knew, I was in my bed, the sheets damp with sweat. My chest ached, and the mark beneath my skin burned faintly. The silver lines had spread higher, threading toward my throat like veins of light. When I breathed, they pulsed softly, as if answering something unseen.
Casimir stood at the edge of the room, his back to me, watching the window. The air around him seemed darker, charged with quiet tension.
"How long was I asleep?" I asked.
He did not look at me. "Long enough."
"Are they alive?"
"Some," he said. "Some are not."
The ache in his voice cut deeper than any wound. I sat up slowly, clutching the blanket around me. "You cannot blame yourself for this."
He turned then, and the look in his eyes made me wish I had not spoken. "It is my father's kingdom dying. My people. My blood. You think I do not blame myself?"
I wanted to reach for him, but I stopped myself. The mark between us was still glowing faintly, and I could feel his pain through it... sharp, cold, endless.
"You should rest," he said softly. "If the Veil takes more from you, I will not be able to bring you back."
"I am not yours to save."
"No," he said. "But you are mine to lose."
The words hung between us, soft and dangerous. I did not know what to say. The silence pressed harder, filling the space between breaths. Outside, the sea had gone still again. Even the wind refused to move.
---
That evening, the bell tower rang once. Just once. The sound rolled through the town like a tremor. I stepped to the window and saw them, figures in the street, still and silent, their eyes open but empty. The sickness had reached the heart of Havenscove.
Casimir stood beside me, his reflection a shadow in the glass. "It is spreading through the quiet," he said. "The silence is not peace. It is the Veil listening."
I turned toward him, the candlelight flickering between us. "Then what do we do?"
He met my gaze, the gold in his eyes catching the flame. "We prepare for when it finally speaks."
Outside, the silence deepened until it swallowed the sound of the waves. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the mark thrum faintly in time with his heartbeat. For the first time, I understood that the silence was not emptiness. It was alive.
And it was listening....