They stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of the unseen world thick in the air around them. Eliara could still feel the Watcher's gaze, even though it was gone.
Or hidden.
Rowen finally broke the silence. "You're not the only one who's Awake. But you're the first in a long time to Awaken naturally."
"Naturally?" Eliara asked, hugging her arms tightly to her chest. The air in the old station was colder now—emptier, like something had been drained from it.
"There are others who have been forced into it," Rowen explained. "Through trauma. Ritual. Madness. But you… you saw through the cracks on your own. That makes you important."
Eliara laughed bitterly. "Great. I always wanted to be important to monsters."
He stepped closer. "They're not all monsters. Some are just lost. But others… they want to tear down the Veil completely. And if they do, your world burns."
"Why tell me this? Why now?"
"Because I can't hold it back alone anymore." Rowen looked tired now—like someone who'd been fighting a war no one else knew existed. "And because the Veil is weakest around you. You're a breach point."
Eliara's stomach sank. "That sounds… bad."
"It is."
The walk back to her apartment felt different. The world looked the same—cars honked, lights flashed, people moved—but it all felt like a set. Like something she could poke her hand through if she dared.
She kept her eyes low. She didn't want to see more flickers. Not tonight.
When she finally made it home, there was a letter waiting for her. No stamp. No name. Just her address written in looping black ink.
She opened it.
Inside was a page torn from what looked like an old book. In the center: a circular symbol, drawn in red. Not ink—something thicker. Almost metallic.
Below it, a single line:
They remember you, Veilkeeper.
The page burned her fingers the moment she touched the symbol. Not hot—alive. She dropped it, gasping, and watched as the page slowly disintegrated into smoke.
Rowen appeared the next night without warning.
Eliara was in the middle of locking up Grind & Bloom when she turned around and found him leaning against the streetlamp, like he'd been there all along.
"You're stalking me now?" she asked, half-serious.
"I told you. You're a breach point. I need to know if something gets through."
"Do they usually leave flaming letters on your doorstep?"
Rowen's eyes sharpened. "You got a Mark?"
"I don't know what that is, but it definitely felt cursed."
"Did it have a symbol? A red circle?"
She nodded.
Rowen swore under his breath. "They know who you are."
"I don't even know who I am," she muttered.
He stepped toward her and held out something wrapped in cloth. "Then it's time to remember."
She hesitated, then took it. The cloth fell away, revealing a pendant on a silver chain—an intricate knot of silver threads, woven in a symbol that looked almost like the one on the letter, but inverted.
"This is yours. Has been for centuries."
"That's impossible."
"It's enchanted with bloodline resonance. It'll only activate for a true Veilkeeper."
She raised an eyebrow. "And if it doesn't work?"
"It will."
Eliara held the pendant for a moment, heart racing, then slipped it over her head.
The second it touched her skin, the world changed.
Time didn't stop—but it stretched.
The city around her slowed to a crawl, sound warping like it was underwater. A high, melodic tone filled her ears, rising and falling in a rhythm that made her stomach flutter.
Then the light changed.
Every object around her—every lamppost, car, person—gleamed faintly with glowing lines, like veins of light just beneath the surface. Even the pavement pulsed with a hidden heartbeat.
She stumbled backward, overwhelmed.
"What is this?" she breathed.
Rowen's voice came from beside her, calm and steady. "It's the world without the mask. The Veil dims everything, hides it. But with that pendant… you see the weave."
"The weave of what?"
"Magic. Reality. Truth."
She turned to him. His form was brighter now, more defined. There was power in him. Not just mystery—magic.
"What are you, Rowen?"
He hesitated. "A Keeper. Like you. Or like you will be. If you survive the next few days."
That night, Eliara dreamed of fire.
Of buildings crumbling, shadows stalking the streets, and a sky cracked open like glass. And standing at the center of it all—herself—but older. Stronger. Cloaked in silver fire, facing something huge, formless, and full of mouths.
The dream ended with a whisper:
You must choose. The Veil, or the Void.