Ava
The morning light came thin and pale, carrying the smell of rain and iron. The sea outside the window was still, too still, as if it had forgotten how to breathe. Every sound in Havenscove felt wrong. The waves no longer whispered; the gulls no longer cried. Even the air hummed with a quiet, trembling rhythm that made my skin prickle.
I stood in the middle of the shop, watching the glass jars tremble on their shelves. The herbs inside them rustled faintly, though there was no wind. The hum beneath my feet grew stronger, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. The mark under my collarbone ached, glowing faintly through my dress.
Then the door opened.
Tata Sofia stood there, her face pale beneath her shawl. "It begins," she said softly.
"What does?"
"The Veil trembles when its heart begins to break." She stepped inside, her eyes moving over the trembling shelves, the cracks in the glass. "You feel it, do you not?"
I nodded. "It feels alive."
"It is alive," Sofia said. "It always was. But it is not whole. The Veil cannot hold the balance forever. It will choose which side must survive."
Her words struck deep. "Choose?"
"Between light and shadow. Between you and him."
I opened my mouth to speak, but the sound caught in my throat. Somewhere beyond the cliffs, thunder rolled, though the sky was clear.
Before I could ask more, the door burst open again. Casimir stumbled inside, soaked in sea spray, blood darkening his sleeve. The air around him shimmered faintly, alive with the energy of the storm.
"Cas!" I ran to him. "You are hurt."
"It is nothing," he said, but his voice was tight. When he tried to pull away, I caught his wrist. The wound beneath his torn shirt glowed faintly, silver and black intertwined. The sight made my stomach twist.
"This is not normal blood," I whispered.
"It came from the harbor," he said. "The rift opened again. It bleeds light now, not shadow."
He tried to steady himself, but the glow spread up his arm. I pressed my hand against it, and the moment our skin met, pain flared through both of us. The mark on my chest burned white-hot. The air thickened. Our knees hit the floor at the same time.
For a moment, our veins shone the same color, silver shot through with gold. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, our breaths tangled, our bodies shaking as the light pulsed through us.
Then it stopped.
We fell apart, gasping. I stared at my hands, still glowing faintly. "What was that?"
Casimir looked down at his arm. The wound was gone, but his voice trembled. "It was the Veil reminding us that we are one."
Sofia knelt beside us, her expression grim. "You have crossed the boundary," she said. "Your bond no longer belongs to either world. You have made something the Veil cannot control."
Casimir looked up sharply. "Then why does it keep trying?"
"Because it fears you," Sofia said. "It fears what love creates."
Her words hung in the air like smoke. I turned to Casimir, my voice barely a whisper. "You dreamed again, did you not?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "He spoke to me. He showed me your death. Over and over. Each time I try to stop it, the world burns."
My chest tightened. "And yet I am the one who wakes with your heartbeat."
He looked at me sharply. "What?"
"I hear it in my dreams. I feel it when I breathe. Sometimes, I think it is not mine anymore."
He closed his eyes. "Then maybe we are already becoming one."
For a moment, there was nothing but silence between us, heavy and alive. I could see the fear in him, the same fear that lived in me. The bond between us pulsed softly, almost tender.
Then the floor trembled.
The glass jars rattled, several shattering at once. The air grew thick with the scent of herbs and salt. The ground beneath our feet heaved, and a sound like tearing fabric filled the room. We ran to the door.
Outside, the sky had split open.
A crack of light ran across the horizon, thin and trembling like a wound in the world. The sea boiled beneath it, shadows curling like smoke. People gathered at the docks, shouting, pointing, their faces pale with fear.
"The Veil," Casimir said. "It is trembling."
A scream tore through the air. I turned and saw Oliver at the edge of the square, his hands pressed over his ears. His eyes glowed faint silver.
I ran to him. "Ollie! Look at me!"
He pointed toward the horizon, his voice small but clear. "It is calling."
"What is?"
"The Veil," he said. "It wants to come home."
Casimir reached us, pulling us both back. "We have to get inside."
The air shimmered, light bleeding from the crack in the sky. The scent of burning salt filled the air. I felt the pull again, deep and irresistible, like the sea trying to claim me.
Inside the shop, the walls shook. Shelves fell. Candles went out one by one. The mark on my skin blazed through the fabric, the pain sharp enough to steal my breath. Casimir's mark flared in answer, his veins lit from within.
"It wants you," he said, his voice raw. "It wants both of us."
"Then it will have to choose," I whispered.
The light swelled once, then vanished. The silence that followed was unbearable. The sea went still. The hum beneath our feet faded into nothing.
Casimir held me and Oliver as I shook. Neither of us spoke. Outside, the world was quiet again, too quiet. The kind of quiet that comes before something breaks.
---
Casimir
The night fell like a shroud. Havenscove was silent, the streets empty. I stood on the cliffs above the sea, the air thick with the scent of rain and earth. Below, the water gleamed faintly, smooth as glass. The horizon glowed faint silver where the Veil had cracked, its light pulsing in time with my own heart.
I lifted my hand. Faint threads of silver ran through the veins, her mark lingering there. I could still feel her warmth, still hear her voice whispering through my thoughts.
Nicholas approached quietly, his coat pulled tight against the wind. "You should rest," he said.
"I cannot," I replied. "It is awake."
"The Veil?"
"No," I said softly. "Elijah."
Nicholas stood beside me, looking out over the sea. "The Veil is trembling because it fears what you two could become."
I looked at my hand again, at the faint silver glow that would not fade. "Then it should be afraid."
The world had begun to tremble, but not from fear, from the heartbeat of two souls that refused to break apart.