The skies had begun to bleed.
Not literally—but close enough. The higher they climbed through the crumbling towers of the ruined city, the more the light fractured. Once a steady amber hue filtering through what remained of the Veil, it now flickered erratically, casting shifting shadows like fractured glass. Each one danced with impossible geometry, occasionally stretching toward Orion as if reaching for something inside him.
Lyra walked beside him in silence. The weight of what he had seen—what they were both coming to understand—lay heavy between them. Still, neither dared speak it aloud. Not yet.
The deeper truth of the Veil, the Hollow, the Weavers, and whatever presence watched from beyond—they were all pieces of a puzzle that refused to be solved by reason alone.
And now… something new had entered the game.
"Orion," Lyra said at last, her voice quiet. "Do you remember the first time we crossed the rift? The stars there—they weren't our own."
"I remember." His voice was hoarse. "They were older."
"Some of them had already died. And yet… they were still visible."
Orion glanced sideways at her, understanding blooming behind his weariness. "Like memories etched into reality."
She nodded. "What if that's what the Veil is? Not a wall. Not a prison. But… memory."
His steps slowed. "A memory of what came before?"
"Or what was meant to stay forgotten."
A sudden gust swept through the corridor, and they both stopped. This wind was unnatural—thick with whispers. Not the Hollow. Not the Weavers.
Something else.
Orion turned toward the sound just as a figure dropped from the ceiling above, landing in a low crouch, twin daggers in hand. His cloak was stitched from what looked like torn starlight, and a silver mask covered his face.
Before either of them could react, two more appeared—one, a woman wreathed in voidfire, her hands smoking with caged embers. The other, a small child holding a crystalline sphere, floating silently above the stone floor.
Lyra instinctively stepped in front of Orion. "We don't want to fight."
The masked figure straightened. "Good," he said, his voice sharp and calm. "Because you wouldn't win."
Orion raised a brow. "And who are you?"
The figure removed his mask—revealing a face too perfect to be human. Skin like burnished bronze. Eyes like eclipses. Ancient. Unsettling.
"I'm Kael," he said. "And if you're still breathing, it means you haven't yet touched the Cataclysm."
Orion blinked. "The what?"
The child giggled, her voice like broken chimes. "He means the end of all stories."
Kael gestured toward the fractured sky. "This Veil—it's just one layer. The Hollow is breaking more than one. And you, Orion… you've already begun to unmake it."
Orion took a slow step forward. "Then why are you here?"
Kael's gaze sharpened. "Because the more you unmake… the more we start to unravel. You're not just walking into a war. You're dragging the rest of us with you."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "You're not from here, are you?"
Kael shook his head. "None of us are. Not anymore."
The woman stepped forward, her voidfire dimming. "We are Astral Wards. Survivors of realms lost to the Nameless Presence."
The child floated closer to Orion, peering into him. "You carry its scent."
He stiffened. "The Hollow?"
The girl smiled, shaking her head. "No. The other. The one the Hollow tried to mimic."
Kael's tone turned grim. "There are countless realms, Orion. Yours is only the latest to start breaking. But there's a reason why it's yours that matters."
Orion's voice was low. "Why?"
Kael stared at him for a long moment. "Because the Veil wasn't made just to keep it out. It was made to hold you in."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Lyra reached for Orion's arm, grounding him. "So what now?"
Kael looked skyward, toward where the Veil flickered like a dying ember. "Now? You come with us. There are others you need to meet. Other survivors. Other… threats."
Orion didn't move right away. His thoughts spun—visions of his future self, of the war, of the Weavers' city and the Nameless watching from beyond. Could he trust Kael and his strange companions?
But then again… what choice did he have?
He met Lyra's eyes. She nodded once. That was all he needed.
He turned back to Kael. "Lead the way."
As they moved into the deeper chambers of the ruins, the light above them bent sharply—twisting, warping.
Far above, across the layers of shattered Veils, the Nameless Presence stirred.
And smiled.