the last veilwalker prophecy

Chapter twelve: The Last Veilwalker Prophecy

The faint remnants of Veilfire still flickered in Emma's irises as she stood in the aftermath of the prophetic vision, her hands trembling faintly in Liam's grip. The magic was slowly fading from her veins, but she could still feel it seething beneath her skin, leaving behind a sharp, disquieting ache.

She could still see it—the fractured vision, seared into her mind like a scar.

The Veilwalker with bloodstained hands.

The Hollowborn chains wrapped around their wrists.

And the reflection of her own face staring back at her.

Her voice was barely more than a breath, hoarse and uneven.

"Liam… I saw the end."

His hands tightened around hers, his knuckles pale with tension.

"What do you mean?"

She lifted her eyes to his, the weight of the vision crushing her chest.

Her voice was raw and low, edged with something that sounded disturbingly like fear.

"The last Veilwalker prophecy."

Her breath faltered slightly, her fingers clutching his cloak as though she needed something solid to hold on to.

"It's not about the Hollowborn. It's not about the Architect. It's about… me."

Liam's face tightened sharply, his jaw clenching, his eyes flashing with sudden intensity.

"What did you see?"

Her throat was tight and dry, but she forced the words out.

"I saw the last of the Veilwalkers. Chained. Hollowed out."

Her voice cracked faintly.

"And when I looked at their face… it was mine."

The Hidden Scripture

Liam's hands tensed around hers, but his eyes were steady—grounded and fierce, as though he was already bracing for battle.

But she saw the faint flicker of fear beneath it, hidden behind his clenched jaw.

He slowly lowered his voice.

"You're sure?"

Emma's throat tightened violently, but she didn't hesitate.

She nodded faintly.

"It was a prophecy, Liam. The last one."

He exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing on the Veil-marked obelisk behind her, his grip still locked around her wrists.

And his voice was low and sharp, barely more than a growl.

"Then we'll change it."

She felt her chest tighten.

"Liam—"

But he shook his head sharply, cutting her off.

"No. Don't." His voice shook slightly, low and resolute.

"You don't get to say it's too late. You don't get to say it's already written. I don't care what you saw."

His hands suddenly tightened around hers, fierce and unyielding, his knuckles trembling.

"I won't let it be you. Do you understand me?"

Her throat constricted painfully, and she pressed her forehead against his chest, breathing shakily against him.

And for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Only the faint, haunted silence of the Shattered Realms pressed in around them.

And then, slowly, Emma forced herself to breathe.

Because she knew there was still more.

There was something she had missed—something hidden in the memory.

And she was going to find it.

The Veil's Secret

The Veil was still shimmering faintly, the residual magic bleeding softly into the jagged stone around them. The prophecy's magic had fractured the barrier between realms, leaving the echoes of forgotten voices lingering in the atmosphere.

Emma slowly stepped toward the obelisk again, her fingertips grazing the faintly pulsing glyphs.

Her magic hummed faintly beneath her skin, still woven with traces of the vision, making the glyphs flare softly at her touch.

"There's more," she murmured under her breath, half to herself.

She narrowed her eyes, scanning the glyphs carefully.

And then she saw it.

A second layer of magic hidden beneath the first.

Faint. Nearly imperceptible.

But it was there—a veil inside the Veil, concealing something that had been buried for centuries.

"There's a hidden scripture," she whispered.

Liam was instantly at her side, his gaze dark and sharp.

"What does it say?"

Her fingers trembled faintly over the surface of the stone, and she exhaled slowly, channeling a thin current of Veil magic into the inscription.

The glyphs shifted and rearranged, dissolving into a secondary script—ancient and jagged, curling like smoke.

And she read the words aloud, her voice low and steady.

"When the last of the Veilwalkers falls… the Veil will shatter."

Her chest tightened.

"And the Hollowborn will rise from its bones."

Liam's eyes darkened sharply, the muscles in his jaw flexing violently.

"What?"

Her voice wavered faintly, but she continued.

"And the first-born of the Hollowborn will wear the Veilwalker's face."

Her breath caught sharply.

"And she will call herself the Architect's heir."

The words hung heavily in the air, a suffocating weight pressing down on her chest.

And Liam's fingers dug into her arms, his voice low and dangerous.

"No."

His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.

"That's not going to happen."

But she shook her head faintly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"It's already started."

Her throat tightened painfully, her breath shuddering.

"The Hollowborn aren't just trying to break the Veil, Liam."

Her eyes met his.

"They're trying to replace it. With me."

The Hollowborn's Deception

Liam's fingers clenched into fists, his knuckles bloodless.

His voice was low and sharp, a rough growl barely restrained.

"No. They can't. They won't."

But she was already shaking her head, knowing the truth—feeling it burrowed into her chest.

"They already are."

Her voice was tight and raw, barely steady.

"The Hollowborn didn't mark me to destroy me."

Her throat constricted violently.

"They marked me to make me one of them."

And she felt the memory of the chains pressing around her wrists—the suffocating weight of dark magic pressing into her skin.

Liam's voice was low and fierce, his hands suddenly cupping her face, his thumbs trembling faintly against her cheeks.

"Listen to me."

His voice was hoarse and sharp, his breath unsteady.

"I don't care what the prophecy says. You are not going to fall. Do you understand me? You are not going to become one of them."

Her throat tightened violently, and she let out a faint, unsteady breath, feeling the burn of tears behind her eyes.

And when he kissed her, it was sudden and desperate, slow and aching.

His fingers tangled in her hair, trembling against her skin, as though he were trying to hold her there—to keep her from slipping away.

And she kissed him back—fiercely and helplessly—clinging to him, grasping at the life in him, at the grounding warmth of his hands.

Because she knew—in that moment—that he was the only thing keeping her from falling into the darkness the prophecy had promised.

And when they finally pulled apart, he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice low and rough.

"We'll fight it, Emma. I swear to you. We'll fight it."

And she closed her eyes, holding on to him.

Because if the prophecy was right, her soul was the price.

But she knew he would burn the Veil itself to keep it from being taken.

The Echoes of the Veil

Emma's heart pounded erratically as the weight of the Veilwalker prophecy settled deeper into her chest. The faint traces of Veilfire still danced in her vision, like ethereal flames flickering just beyond the horizon of her senses. It was as though she had stepped into a world of fractured memories, with pieces of time swirling around her like a storm of light and shadow.

She stood frozen for a moment, staring at the Veil-marked obelisk, the faint humming energy vibrating through the stone beneath her fingertips. Her breath was ragged, and her chest tightly compressed from the weight of what she had just experienced.

Liam's voice, low and steady, cut through her thoughts.

"Emma, look at me."

She turned slowly, meeting his darkened gaze, his brow furrowed in concern. His hand moved to her arm, his fingers warm against her skin.

"We need to get out of here, Emma. That vision—it's not just a warning. It's a trap."

Her heart lurched painfully.

"A trap?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"But—what if the prophecy is right? What if I am the one the Hollowborn need?"

Liam's grip tightened on her arm, his expression sharp and determined.

"No." His voice was fierce, raw with emotion.

"I won't let that happen. We'll find another way, Emma. You're not just some piece in their game."

But Emma's thoughts were already racing, darting between the shattered pieces of the vision she had seen. She had caught a glimpse of something far darker, far more devastating than anything she had imagined.

"But Liam—" Her voice faltered, barely more than a whisper.

"The prophecy didn't just say the Hollowborn would rise. It said that I would wear their face. I'll be their vessel, the one they use to reshape the world."

Her heart tightened in a way that felt like a clenched fist around her lungs.

Liam stepped closer to her, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin.

"Emma, listen to me." His hand reached up, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. The touch was tender, his thumb grazing her cheek in a gesture that made her heart flutter despite the chaos in her mind.

"I'm not going to let that happen. I don't care what the prophecy says. We will find another way to break it. You're not alone in this. You've never been alone."

Her pulse thrummed beneath her skin, and she felt the heat of his touch spreading through her like wildfire. The words he spoke filled her with a fleeting sense of hope, but the vision of the Hollowborn chains was still etched into her mind, cold and unyielding.

"But Liam, what if I can't stop it? What if it's already too late?" she whispered, her voice trembling with doubt.

Liam's expression softened, and he cupped her face gently in his hands. His eyes, always so steady, flickered with something deep and painful—a fury that burned beneath the surface.

"I will fight for you, Emma. I don't care what it costs. I'll never let you become the Architect's pawn."

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest as she gazed into his eyes.

"But what if the prophecy is about me? What if it's my fate?"

Liam shook his head firmly, his jaw tightening.

"Fate doesn't control us, Emma." His voice was hard now, filled with an edge of raw determination.

"The Veil doesn't define us. We choose who we are, and we'll rewrite the future, together."

His words, though filled with fierce conviction, left a knot of fear and uncertainty in her heart. She knew better than anyone that the forces of fate and destiny were not easily broken. The Hollowborn cult had their eyes on her, and she could feel the pull of dark magic at her back, whispering in her ears, promising power, and binding her to their will.

And yet…

Liam's words settled within her, a quiet defiance in the midst of the storm. Could she really fight this alone? Could she rewrite her fate?

The Hidden Path

They didn't speak much as they began their journey deeper into the heart of the Shattered Realms, the broken earth stretching out before them like an endless expanse of desolation. The air was thick with the faint scent of burning magic, and the landscape seemed to wither beneath their feet, as though the land itself was bleeding.

Emma could still feel the echo of the Veilwalker prophecy pressing against her chest like a weight too heavy to bear. The Hollowborn's chains—their twisted claim on her—seemed to reach across time and space, dragging her into an inevitable fate. But Liam was by her side, his hand ever-present at her back, his warmth a constant anchor.

It was this bond, this connection, that kept her from slipping too far into despair. She could feel it in the way their magic resonated together, a subtle hum beneath their skin.

They approached a ruined temple hidden deep within the wastelands, a place that had been abandoned for centuries. The remnants of its stone pillars were crumbled and covered with ivy, and the air itself seemed heavy with lost power.

Liam stepped forward, his eyes narrowed, and his voice low.

"This is it. The Veil's heart. The last place they would hide something this important."

Emma's breath caught in her throat as she looked around. She could feel the Veil's magic lingering in the air, charged and wild. But it was different here—older, more primal. This place was a remnant of something even more ancient than the Hollowborn, a time when the Veilwalkers had ruled.

Liam turned to her, his voice sharp.

"We need to find the Heartstone, Emma. It's the only thing that could shatter the chains. It's our only hope."

The journey ahead was unclear. The Heartstone was said to be hidden deep within the Veil's core, locked away by magic so old and twisted that no one dared approach it. And yet, Emma knew it was their only chance to stop the prophecy from consuming her, to break the chains before the Hollowborn could rise.

But the weight of the prophecy—the face of the Veilwalker—still lingered in her mind. The Veil's mark was branded into her soul, and the Hollowborn's shadow stretched out, threatening to claim her.

She turned to Liam, her voice quiet but fierce.

"We find the Heartstone, then. We fight for it. For us."

Liam nodded, his jaw set with fierce determination.

"Together."

The two of them stepped forward, side by side, as they ventured into the depths of the forgotten temple, their hearts bound not just by fate, but by something far more powerful—something that neither the prophecy nor the Hollowborn could ever truly control.