The walls of the tower shrieked—a sound that was not entirely physical, but spiritual. Ancient wards cracked and hissed, the protective runes flaring with pale blue light before fading to dull gray. The cold that poured in behind the girl was unnatural. It wasn't snow—it was rot. Memory turned sour. Spirit magic turned in on itself.
Liora stood her ground, hand trembling at her side as her spiritfire flickered.
Elias whispered, "That's not a girl. That's something *wearing* a girl."
The possessed figure took another step forward. Her hair billowed unnaturally, though the wind had long since died. Shadows licked at her feet like flame, and her grin twisted wider than a human's jaw should allow.
"You opened the door. You breathed life into the sanctum. You *called me home*."
Liora's breath came heavy. "You're a Watcher."
The creature tilted its head. "I am older than that title. They gave me the name Sahria, once. Your father knew me by another—*The Veilborn.*"
The name struck like a chord deep in her bones.
Liora reached for her magic—but Elias was quicker. He hurled a blade of crackling red sigil energy at the creature.
The spell struck the girl's chest—
—And passed straight through.
She didn't flinch. Instead, she stepped into Elias's space with inhuman speed, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack the stone. He wheezed, boots kicking off the floor.
Liora shouted, "Let him go!" and launched a wave of spiritfire toward the Veilborn.
This time it hit true, sending her reeling back, snarling. Elias dropped with a gasp, clutching his neck, and rolled to the side.
Sahria's smile returned, cracked but wider. "Yes. That's the fire. The same as your mother's."
Liora pulled Elias behind her. "What do you want from me?"
"I don't want *you*, little necromancer. I want what's bound to you. The pact. The old souls. The gate your father left behind."
She stepped forward again, and the shadows around her thickened.
"You are a walking key. Every spell you cast, every fusion you attempt, brings me closer to freedom."
Liora's mind reeled. If this thing had been sealed by her parents… If her very magic was unlocking its prison…
She couldn't stop casting. But she *had* to find a way to change the terms of the pact.
Sahria surged forward, claws extending from her hands like bone scythes. Liora dropped low, dodging, and swept her dagger up in a wide arc—catching the creature in the stomach. Her blade sliced deep, but instead of blood, shadows spilled out, shrieking and burning against the steel.
The Veilborn screamed—not in pain, but in rage—and lashed back.
Liora took the blow across her shoulder, thrown into a bookshelf. Her vision blurred. Books scattered around her. She spat blood onto the floor.
Then her fingers closed around something in the rubble: a bone-carved charm, wrapped in red thread. One of her mother's old seals.
Elias shouted from across the room, "Liora!"
She rose shakily. "Cover me."
He nodded, stepping between her and Sahria again, firing off runes like a desperate gunslinger.
Liora began to chant in Old Tongue. The charm in her hand glowed brighter with each word. Her blood fell onto the carving, and the spell completed itself.
The seal activated.
A circle of binding magic erupted beneath the Veilborn's feet. She screamed as chains of glowing spiritlight wrapped around her form.
"You dare—!" she screeched, writhing against the bonds. "You think you can contain me again?!"
Liora stumbled forward, bleeding, shaking, but resolute. "Not forever. Just long enough."
She thrust the charm into the heart of the spell. The chains pulled tight—and Sahria *snapped*.
Not physically.
She screamed again, and her face split—shadow pouring from her mouth like smoke. The girl's body collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Liora fell to her knees beside her, gasping for breath.
Elias rushed over. "Is it over?"
Liora looked at the unconscious child—the real one, now. Pale. Breathing shallow.
She nodded, but said nothing.
Not yet.
Not truly.
---
They stayed in the tower overnight. Elias lit a fire, using scraps of old books for kindling. Liora sat near the flame, her hands trembling as she sipped from a waterskin.
"You were right," she said quietly.
Elias raised an eyebrow. "That's rare. About what?"
"This magic. The pact. It's not clean. Every step I take forward unseals something they buried. My parents weren't heroes. They were *wardens*. Jailers."
Elias stared into the flames. "And now you're wearing the keys around your neck."
Liora didn't answer.
Instead, her eyes drifted to the child—Sahria's former vessel—curled under a blanket nearby.
She didn't look more than ten years old.
"I need to find the next sanctum," Liora said, finally. "If the tower held Veylan's memories, there must be more. Clues to rewrite the pact. To turn this from a prison into… something else."
Elias nodded slowly. "And if we can't rewrite it?"
Liora looked him in the eye.
"Then I'll burn it down myself. Pact and all."
The fire crackled.
Outside, the wind began to rise again—but this time, it was quiet. Less a scream, more a whisper.
Almost like something was *listening.