The ruins of Armath Hollow groaned under the weight of time and ash. Charred stone arches curled like broken ribs under a bruised sky, and the land, once teeming with life, now pulsed with whispers—echoes of lives long lost.
Liora stood at the center of it all.
The Veil-tier ritual had taken more than she expected. Her hands still trembled, not from fatigue, but from what she had seen. From what she remembered. Alric's memories—her father's life—weren't just fragments. They were entire years poured into her like smoke filling a chamber. Faces she didn't recognize but felt tied to. Voices that called her "daughter" with warmth she never knew.
The soul fusion had worked. And now, she was more than just herself.
She walked deeper into the ruins, her boots crunching over bones that refused to decay. The sanctuary had been hidden in these depths—one of Alric's many secret havens. Mapped in his mind. Now embedded in hers.
Liora found it behind a shattered mosaic of obsidian glass. She pressed her hand to the stone, and it melted away, not with magic, but with blood-right. The hallway beyond hummed with old power, heavy and reverent.
The sanctuary was unlike anything she had seen. It wasn't grand, but personal. Walls carved with ancient rites. A bed of black feathers in the corner. And on a central pedestal, a box. Nothing ornate—just oak and bone, sealed with a strand of hair.
She hesitated.
Then opened it.
Inside were letters. Dozens, maybe more. Written in a hand she now recognized. Not just Alric's, but her mother's too.
She didn't cry. Not yet. But her chest pulled tight, as if the soul inside her needed to grieve and she hadn't given it permission.
As her fingers brushed the first letter, a sudden warmth filled the room. The protective charm around the sanctuary flared. Someone had triggered it.
Liora turned, hand raised. No spell. No summon. Just readiness.
But the intruder wasn't an enemy.
It was Thane—an old druid turned exile, one of the few who had helped her early in her journey when she fled the village. His once-wild hair was now streaked with silver, and his green eyes dimmed with time.
"You found it," he said, voice raspy. "I hoped you would."
Liora tilted her head. "You knew about this place?"
"I helped Alric build it. Long before you were born."
Silence stretched.
"I didn't come to fight," Thane said. "I came to give you something. A memory. One your father couldn't give himself."
He reached into his robes and held out a stone—pale, smooth, and pulsing faintly with magic.
"A memory stone?" she asked.
He nodded. "Locked with an oath. You'll need his blood—and your own. But… you're both, now. You'll manage."
Liora took it. The stone trembled in her palm like it recognized her.
Thane bowed slightly. "He loved you. Even in death. You need to know that."
She didn't reply. Words were fragile in moments like this.
Thane left her alone.
Back in the sanctuary, Liora placed the stone against her forehead. A whisper passed through her—the first voice she remembered hearing as a child, now echoed in her mind.
"Liora… my little flame…"
Her knees gave out. She crumpled to the feathered bed, stone still pressed against her skin, and let the wave of sorrow and strange comfort wash over her.
Later that night, she lit the ritual basin with pale blue fire. She could feel it now—her necromancy shifting. The soul fusion hadn't just added knowledge. It was mutating her magic.
Bones rose faster. Spirits hovered closer. Shadows bent around her body as if they answered her instinctively. When she summoned, the air didn't chill. It warmed.
A strange new spell flickered into her interface.
Veil Technique Unlocked: Memory Tether.
It didn't raise the dead. It let her speak with them. Not command—connect.
Her fingers shook as she activated it.
Her mother's voice came through first.
Faint. Fuzzy. Like a song hummed through water.
"I see you, my darling. I always knew you'd come."
Liora didn't speak. She couldn't. The tears finally came—not as a storm, but as a gentle, quiet release.
She had hated her parents for so long. For leaving her. For letting the world take her innocence. But maybe—just maybe—they never wanted to leave. Maybe they had fought for her in ways she'd never known.
Outside the sanctuary, the wind howled.
And far away, in a temple of glass and frost, Mavrek leaned over a scrying basin. His hands laced, his mouth curled.
"She's almost ready," he said to the cloaked figure beside him.
"And the soul fusion?"
"More complete than I hoped," Mavrek murmured. "Alric was the key. Now… she just needs a nudge."
The figure asked nothing more.
Because Liora wasn't their enemy. Not yet.
She was still a possibility.
And possibilities could be shaped.