The sun crept over the cracked horizon, spilling dull orange light across the land. The tower—old, wounded, and quiet now—stood like a sentinel in mourning. Liora walked ahead, her boots pressing into brittle soil as Elias trailed behind, carrying the child wrapped in a wool blanket on his back.
They'd left before dawn, avoiding questions from any curious spirits who still lingered in the surrounding ruins.
"She still hasn't woken?" Liora asked, glancing over her shoulder.
Elias adjusted his grip. "No. But she's breathing steady. Whatever that Veilborn thing did to her, it's clinging to the edges. You can *feel* it."
Liora nodded. Her spiritfire confirmed the same. The girl's soul had been tainted—not corrupted, not lost, but *shaded.* A residue of something deeper and older.
"We'll find someone who can help her," she murmured, though she wasn't sure she believed it.
They followed a worn-out trade road through what was once the Eastern stretch of the Calerin Basin. Fields of salt and dust spread out for miles in all directions. Nothing grew here anymore. Not after the blight wars. Not after the necromancers burned the ley lines dry.
By midday, Liora spotted black flags fluttering against the skyline.
"Tethermarket," she said with a small smile. "We'll find help there."
Elias looked unimpressed. "That place smells like sweat, lies, and cheap spell-ink."
"Then it hasn't changed."
They crested the hill and descended toward the bustling pit of tents, wagons, skeletal animals, and vendors shouting curses in six different languages. The Tethermarket was technically neutral ground, one of the last few functioning trading hubs in the fractured continent. It sat at the edge of multiple dead kingdoms and catered to anyone who could pay—bandits, arcanists, warlocks, and the occasional desperate noble.
The moment they stepped inside, the energy hit them like a wave: crowds moving, voices bartering, charms buzzing in the air, illusion-spells flickering in vibrant hues over merchant booths.
"Eyes sharp," Liora said. "And stay close."
Elias snorted. "I'm carrying a child and you *glow* when you get angry. We're already too visible."
They passed potion-sellers hawking tonics guaranteed to reverse rot, sell-sword recruiters calling out blood prices, and a vendor claiming to sell relics from the Wraith King's war chest.
It wasn't long before a voice slithered through the crowd.
"Well, well… If it isn't little Liora."
They turned to find a thin man leaning against a bone-carved stall. His coat was stitched from stitched wyvern hide, and a small skull—probably real—hung around his neck. His skin was brown and sun-worn, his dreadlocks laced with tiny charms.
Liora's shoulders stiffened. "Drail."
"Come now. No smile? No 'good to see you' for your favorite old fence?"
Elias muttered, "You know this creep?"
"Unfortunately," Liora said. "He helped me offload some relics after my first summoning backfired and leveled half a forest."
Drail grinned wider. "And I made sure those relics found their way into good, *responsible* hands. Or at least expensive ones."
He glanced at the child on Elias's back and arched a brow. "Trouble?"
Liora didn't answer, but the look in her eyes said enough.
Drail tilted his head. "You want healing, soulwork, or extraction? All cost extra. But for you…" His grin turned shark-like. "I'll give a discount if you tell me what's following you."
"We're not looking for charity," Elias snapped.
Liora stepped between them. "We need a seer. One who knows soul residue, Veilborn lore, and still remembers what a Pactbrand is."
Drail's grin vanished.
He looked at her more closely now, the playfulness draining. "Pactbrand? You serious?"
She nodded slowly, pulling back her sleeve just enough to show the black spiral mark etched into her skin—one she'd kept hidden for years.
Drail exhaled, long and low. "Damn, girl… You *are* your parents' child."
"You know someone or not?"
He was quiet for a moment, then reached under his stall and pulled out a long, twisted bone rod. It vibrated in his hand like a compass needle in the presence of deep magic.
"Follow this to the northeast edge of the market. Tent marked with silver thread and goat blood. Ask for Mother Ino."
"Is she safe?"
"No," Drail said plainly. "But she's the only one crazy enough to still work with Pactbound."
Liora nodded once. "Thanks."
As they walked away, Drail called after them, "Tell her I want my scrying bowl back! Or at least my sanity!"
---
The tent stood exactly where Drail said it would. Silver thread hung from the flap like rain, and dried blood symbols painted the doorframe in strange, sweeping strokes. As they stepped inside, the air *shifted.*
Warm.
Thick.
It *smelled* like cinnamon, grave-dirt, and old memory.
A woman sat at the center of the tent, her long white locks braided down her back, her skin lined with age and power. She wore a blindfold of silk and bone, and her hands hovered over a smoking basin.
Without looking, she said, "Pactborn. Step carefully."
Liora knelt. "Mother Ino. I was told you could help."
The old woman's head tilted slightly. "Ah. Veylan's line. I smell his arrogance on your blood."
"Something rode this girl," Liora said, gesturing to the child. "A Veilborn. And I—my magic—is opening seals I don't understand."
Mother Ino waved her hand. Shadows swirled above the basin. The image of Sahria, the possessed girl, flickered into view. Her face twisted into the inhuman grin again.
Ino hissed. "The Veil is thinning."
She turned toward Liora. "You need more than guidance, child. You need an anchor. A blood tether to hold you steady when the doors between worlds swing wide."
Liora's brow furrowed. "How do I get one?"
Ino gave a small smile. "With blood. *Your* blood. That of your kin. That of the dead."
Liora hesitated. She barely remembered her family. What remained of them—if anything—was lost.
But something had to change. The seals were breaking. The Veilborn were stirring.
And she was still learning what her power could become.
Elias leaned closer, voice low. "Do you trust her?"
"No," Liora whispered. "But right now, she knows more than we do."
Mother Ino chuckled. "Then let's begin."