He steps back. The flames rise with him, roaring their approval. The crowd chants something low and primal. A dirge. A prayer. Or maybe a warning.
“Then go, Kursk the Longstrider. May your enemy fear your name... longer than we remember it.”
I don’t look back. Not even when my mother's voice cries my name from somewhere in the crowd. I can’t. If I turn now, I’ll break.
The path to the Veil is narrow and old, carved through obsidian rock and lit by bloodtorches that flicker blue instead of orange. The shaman who guards the rift doesn’t speak as I approach—just stares at me with milky, lidless eyes and steps aside.
The rift itself isn’t majestic. It’s a wound. A tear in the world, shivering like a spiderweb in moonlight. I step close, and the air goes cold. My breath smokes. My bones ache.
The Spiritslayer vibrates in my hands.
“I’m coming for you,” I whisper to the thing that waits beyond. “I’m gonna find you, and I’m gonna gut you like a rat that thinks it’s a god.”
And then I step through.
CHAPTER 2
OLIVIA
It’s nearly 8 p.m., and the library smells like dust, paper, and disappointment.
“God, I swear if I hear one more guy on Bumble say he’s ‘spiritually aligned with gym culture,’ I’m gonna set myself on fire,” Peggy Sue groans, tossing her phone face down on the reference desk like it insulted her ancestors.
I don’t look up from the overdue returns. “Maybe you just need to adjust your radius filter. Try… outside of the tri-county area. Or the tri-state.”
She scoffs. “Honey, I’d have to adjust it to Jupiter to find a man in this town who doesn’t think bathing is optional or that ‘Netflix and chill’ is a personality.”
I laugh, even though I feel every word. “Aren’t you the one with a date tonight?”
“Yeah, but it’s probably just another guy who thinks ‘historian’ means I roleplay as Betsy Ross in the bedroom.”
I finally look up. “Don’t you?”
She winks. “Only on Thursdays.”
That’s Walnut Falls for you—big hearts, small minds, and even smaller dating pools. Still, I love this place. The library’s quiet hum, the way the floorboards creak like old ghosts trying togossip, and the steady rhythm of work that keeps the loneliness from settling too deep.
Peggy starts gathering her things, reapplying lipstick with practiced flair. “You mind locking up solo?”
I wave a hand. “Nah, I got it. Go let some poor bastard find out you’re smarter than him.”
She leans over and kisses my cheek. “Godspeed, Olivia. Try not to kill Booger and Burnout.”
“Only if they ask real nice.”
Speak of the devils—giggles erupt from the photography section.
I sigh and stroll over.
Booger and Burnout are huddled over a high-class hardcover titledThe Human Form: A Study in Light and Shadow. Which, of course, means boobs. Tasteful boobs, but still boobs.
Burnout nudges Booger with his elbow. “Dude, look at this one—her expression is, like, ‘Please admire my soul through my nipples.’”
Booger snorts. “Ten outta ten. Would philosophize with.”
I cross my arms. “Alright, Casanovas. That’s a reference book, not a romance novel. And those models are someone’s mother, daughter, and probably more talented than both of you combined.”
They whip around, faces red, but not ashamed.
