The Veil of Truth  

  Chapter 51: The Veil of Truth 

Celestine's heart pounded in her ears as the spectral form loomed above them. Its dark shape wavered like a smoldering coal, existing and not existing. The weight of its stare, though it had no discernible eyes, pressed upon her flesh, colder than the air around her.

 "The past you have forgotten. The future you are not yet prepared to face." 

Syllables echoed once more, full of meaning that Celestine was not yet prepared to understand. She clenched her hands into fists and remained standing. "If you are so smart, then tell me—what am I supposed to remember?"

The shape of the apparition twisted, its presence distorting like a tear in the fabric of space. "Memories are not given. They are earned." 

Lucien sucked in roughly, stepping closer to Celestine. "This creature is playing tricks on us. We don't have time for puzzles."

Draven stood by, watching the creature intently, his purple eyes unreadable. "No. It's testing her. And not for the first time, either."

Celestine glared at him. "What are you talking about?"

Before Draven had a chance to answer, the room groaned. Runes on walls erupted into flaming blue light that cast the chamber in a percussive, pulsing sheen. Enough definition was resolved into the form of the creature so that Celestine discerned the faint black shape of armor—neatly formed, majestic, and horribly recognisable.

An agony flashed through her head. Images—splinters, unclear—flared behind her eyes. A battlefield blackened by a red eclipse. Blood on silver steel. A vow whispered in darkness.

Then it vanished.

Celestine gasped, stumbling backward as Lucien sprang forward to catch her. "Celestine! What's wrong?"

She slapped a trembling hand to her temple, trying to steady herself. "I. I saw something. A war. A memory. But it wasn't mine."

Draven's face turned granite. "It was."

Her breath was caught. "What?"

The ghost shifted again, its voice almost a whisper now. "You are not what you think you are. And the time has come to remember." 

Before Celestine had a chance to pose more questions, the thing provided her with a darkly-colored hand. A jolt of energy flashed out and knocked her hard in the middle of her chest. The universe around her dissipated into darkness, and she plunged—plunged into a life she did not even know she had.

Chapter 52: Echoes of the Forgotten

Celestine plunged into darkness.

Wind whipped past her, but no earth, no heaven—only a bottomless void that pulled her down into the unknown. She twisted as a wave of memories—a stranger's and yet painfully hers—passed through her mind like jagged glass.

A blood-stained battlefield.

A silver crown, falling from trembling hands.

A voice whispering her name like a prayer—Celestia.

She gasped as her feet suddenly came to rest on solid ground, the shock running through her entire body. The darkness faded away, to be replaced by a dimly lit room, eerily similar to the one she had just left. But something was off.

This wasn't the present.

This was a memory.

She turned, her breath catching as she watched herself—or at least, someone who looked very much like her—standing in the center of the room. Her past self stood in flowing silver robes, her face set, and her hands emitting raw power. At her feet knelt a man, blood dripping from his lips, his golden eyes weary with exertion.

Valerius.

Celestine's heart pounded. This couldn't be. Valerius had ever been the foe, the one who sought to conquer her. But here, in this memory, he was changed. Not the cold, calculating monster she'd fought, but someone. broken.

"You swore an oath," Past Celestine panted, regret dripping from her words. "You gave it away."

Valerius laughed—a dry, acid sound. "Did I? Or didn't you want to believe?

Celestine was frozen as her past self wavered. Power ran through her hands, between control and chaos. Valerius lifted his gaze, something ancient and tired in his expression.

"Complete it," he breathed. "Before it begins."

Past Celestine clenched her fists. The air between them shimmered—light and darkness intertwining like strands of fate.

Then everything broke apart.

Celestine was yanked out of the vision, gasping as she was flung back into the here and now. Her knees gave way, and hard hands grasped her before she fell to the ground.

Lucien.

His hold was unyielding, anchoring her as the world rushed back. Draven stood close by, his violet eyes pinched with worry. The runes in the room still glowed, but now they were different—no longer latent, but alive.

"What occurred?" Lucien growled.

Celestine swallowed thickly. "I remembered."

Draven's gaze narrowed. "Recalled what?"

She took a shuddering breath. "Who I was. Who he was. And why all of this isn't what we thought."

Chapter 53: Shattered Illusions

Lucien's expression turned grim. "Explain."

Celestine shook her head, the resonance of the vision still spinning in her mind. "I was there. In the past. I saw me—Celestia—standing before Valerius. He wasn't just my adversary. He was. something else."

Draven folded his arms, his violet eyes unreadable. "Continue."

She swallowed hard. "He was kneeling. Injured. Pleading with me to prevent something from beginning."

Lucien's jaw clenched. "And did you?

Celestine stopped, her mind reeling from the memory. That was the part she couldn't understand. The vision had stopped before she could see what she had done in the past. Had she rescued Valerius? Had she doomed them all?

"I don't know," she admitted. "The memory stopped before I could see the outcome."

Draven exhaled sharply, pacing a moment before coming back to her. "Then we need to find out. If Valerius is the key to this prophecy, we need to know his role before we face him again."

Celestine nodded, determination hardening in her bones. "Then we go to him. No more running."

Lucien exchanged a wary glance with Draven before nodding. "Agreed. But if we're doing this, we do it our way."

A sudden gust of wind tore through the room, leaving the torches on the walls dancing in its flickering light. It was as though the ruins themselves were attuned to their decision, issuing warnings in the whispers of centuries gone.

Celestine steeled herself with a deep breath. No matter what secrets the past harbored, she would uncover them.

And this time, she would not leave it to chance.

The journey to Valerius's stronghold was silent and strained. Celestine rode ahead, her mind a maelstrom of confusing emotions. She had ever only known Valerius as the enemy, the one who threatened her very existence. But now… now she was not so sure.

Draven rode beside her, ever watchful. His fingers tapped out a rhythm on the hilt of his dagger, a habit he had when he was pondering. "Celestine, do you realize this could be a trap?"

She nodded. "I do. But we cannot keep running blind. The past holds the secrets of our future. If I don't know who I was, how can I control who I am now?"

Lucien, riding a bit back, let out a tense breath. "Just swear one thing to me—if he does try something, you won't hesitate to defend yourself."

Celestine met his gaze, observing the concern behind his hardened exterior. "I swear."

Night grew darker, and shadows stretched as they approached the fortress. The path leading up to the blackened fortress was lined with torches that burned in an unnatural blue flame, the reflections of which danced eerily on the stone walls. The fortress itself loomed like a forgotten remnant of an era ancient to history itself, its soaring heights stretching to pierce the sky like a jagged tooth of the beast waiting to devour them whole.

As the moon rose higher, their destination became discernible. The fortress stood as a darkened monolith in the starless heavens. Unnatural shadows twisted across its walls, the very air seeming to hum with dark energy. The sensation gave Celestine a cold shiver down her spine.

Valerius awaited them.

The gates creaked open as they approached, some invisible hand beckoning them inward. The three of them dismounted, advancing forward into the emptiness. Each step was heavier than the last, the weight of confrontation to come bearing down upon them like some invisible force.

Celestine's heart thundered as they entered the vast hall, its cavernous space illuminated only by flickering torches. Its walls were covered in carvings depicting scenes of conflict, treachery, and bloodshed—stories of an age she could almost remember but not quite grasp. At the far end, upon a throne of black obsidian, sat Valerius himself.

He looked. at peace. Expectant.

"You came," he whispered, his gold eyes glinting in the dim light. "I was beginning to think that you never would."

Celestine stepped closer, her fists clenched at her sides. "Enough games, Valerius. I need answers."

His smile was slow, calculated, as he leaned forward in his throne. "Oh, Celestine. You already have them. You just do not recall them yet."

Lucien growled, stepping protectively beside Celestine. "Enough riddles. Speak what you know."

Valerius laughed, the deep sound almost amused. "Tell you? My dear, I have waited centuries for you to remember by yourself. But I suppose we can speed things along."

He lifted his hand, and the torches on the walls flared to life, casting an unearthly glow throughout the room. The air vibrated with energy, and Celestine's vision blurred as a fresh wave of memories swept through her.

The past was not waiting anymore. 

It was coming for her.