Chapter 18
Chapter 18: Shadows Stir
The rift lingered on the horizon like a wound in the sky—dark, pulsing, unnatural. Seralyn and Kaela stood at the edge of the Forgotten Expanse, the third Veil Fragment secured in Seralyn's leather satchel, its heat pulsing in sync with the bond sigils etched into their skin.
They did not speak for a long time. The wind was too still, the sky too silent.
Finally, Seralyn muttered, "That… was not a natural rift."
Kaela nodded, her eyes narrowed on the black mass bleeding from the fissure. "No. That's Yren. He's accelerating the decay."
Seralyn turned to her. "I thought only the Flame's Memory could trigger Veil ruptures."
Kaela's voice was quiet, but edged in steel. "He was once Memory too, long ago. Before he betrayed the order."
They began to walk, following the ancient star-charts embedded into Kaela's flame-wrought compass. Their destination: the shattered citadel of Myrr'Telion, an abandoned elven bastion rumored to hold the final Veil anchor.
---
That night, they made camp in the ruins of a marble amphitheater, where the stone pillars leaned like drunk sentries, and moss grew in the cracks of thrones once used by Elven aristocracy.
Kaela lit the fire with a flick of her finger. No incantation, no spell word—just raw intent.
Seralyn sat opposite her, cleaning her blade. "You didn't hesitate when the illusions came."
Kaela's lips twitched. "I used to think fear was weakness. Now I think denial is."
They locked eyes.
"Were you afraid?" Kaela asked.
Seralyn didn't look away. "Terrified. Of what I saw. Of who I could be."
Kaela hesitated, then said softly, "You didn't kill me in yours, did you?"
"No," Seralyn said. "But I watched you die. And I broke."
They didn't speak again that night. But they sat close. The fire needed no fuel.
---
Three days later, the winds began to howl.
They crossed the Scorched Steps, where bones of dragons and ancient beasts littered the cliffs like discarded truths. The sky glimmered unnaturally, a shimmer of aurora not native to the realm.
"The world's unraveling," Kaela murmured.
Seralyn glanced toward her. "What happens if the rift reaches the anchor first?"
Kaela's voice was flat. "Then even death won't be an escape."
On the fourth night, the shadows came.
They didn't arrive with sound or smoke. They simply appeared. Dozens of them, cloaked in flame-eating darkness, their bodies semi-transparent, their hands elongated into claws that scraped memory from stone.
Kaela rose first. Her flame burst to life, casting long golden rays.
Seralyn drew steel, and the bond between them blazed. The first shadow lunged.
---
Battle was chaos.
Kaela's fire seared through two of them, but a third split into mist, reforming behind Seralyn. She turned too late—but Kaela was already there.
She caught the shadow by the throat, flame coursing through her veins, her eyes alight with veined fire.
"Not this time," Kaela hissed.
The shadow screamed—a sound like glass breaking underwater—and dissipated.
Seralyn grabbed her hand. "They're testing the sigil."
"They're drawing power from the rift," Kaela said. "They're not real. They're echoes of what Yren wants us to fear."
But fear or not, they hurt.
When the last one fell, Kaela collapsed to one knee.
Seralyn caught her. "You're burned."
Kaela grunted. "I'm fine."
"You always say that," Seralyn growled. "One day, I'll stop believing you."
Kaela looked up. "Promise?"
Seralyn's hand lingered on her cheek. "Yes."
---
They reached the outskirts of Myrr'Telion on the seventh day.
The city was a skeleton—spiraling towers crumbled into rivers, roads overgrown with glowing thistle. A place where echoes of song still lingered in the marble.
The gate stood ajar, as if waiting.
Kaela stepped inside first. "This was once a capital."
"I know," Seralyn said. "My grandmother ruled here."
They stopped. "You're of royal blood?"
Seralyn shrugged. "Doesn't matter. They tried to purge me when I spoke out. Royalty didn't protect me."
A pause. Then Kaela said, "I would've burned them for you."
Seralyn smiled. "Maybe you still can."
---
Inside the central tower, beneath a shattered stained-glass dome, lay the next puzzle. A pool of starlight, surrounded by ancient glyphs etched into obsidian. At its center hovered a flame. Not fire—but a flickering spirit.
Kaela approached. "This is it. The fourth anchor."
The spirit stirred.
"You are not yet whole," it whispered. "The bond must be sealed."
"What does that mean?" Seralyn asked.
Kaela turned to her.
"It means we have to give in. Fully. No lies. No denial."
Seralyn's eyes narrowed. "Give in to what?"
"To the bond. To each other. To fate."
Silence stretched.
Then Seralyn stepped forward, eyes blazing.
"No more running."
She reached for Kaela.
Kaela's breath caught.
Their hands met.
The sigils ignited.
The spirit flared.
And the rift… screamed.screamed.