I don’t understand what happened.
I don’t understand how I wasn’tbreathing.
“You were dying,”Ryc’s voice, laced with a trembling fear I’ve never heard before, tears through my mind.
“But I’m fine,” I manage through teeth refusing to still. “I’m here.”
I’m alive.
Confused, but alive.
“Thank you, Oraphia,” Ryc says with a firm nod.
Like Raevi, Oraphia bobs in a swift curtsy before retreating from the room. The door clicks shut behind her. For the longest time, the blazing fire becomes the only sound in the room.
Trying to keep my shivering under control, I curl into Ryc and he heaves a relieved sigh—his heart finally starting to slow.
I couldn’t have dreamt it.
The veil, the raven.
Not if Ryc felt it too.
And how could I haveslippedinto the veil?
I’m no longer a Death Bringer. Nor am I a veilwalker.
Whatever the vibration in my chest had been, it’s gone. No trace of it now. Peering past Ryc toward the balcony, he follows my gaze.
“What is it?” he asks softly, turning back to study me.
“Ryc,” I say, fixating upon the railing where the raven had perched. “The veil wasn’t weakened when Netharis stormed the Moon Temple…”
His brows crease.
As much as I don’t want to speak this curse into the universe, I have to. Not saying anything and being right would be damning. Saying something and beingwrongis the ideal outcome in this situation.
I need to be wrong.
Otherwise everyone is in danger.
Meeting Ryc’s stare I say, “It was torn.”
?????????????
I was right.
And Ryc confirmed it.
With his ability to peer into the veil, he saw exactly what I did. It wasn’t a dream or strange, exhaustion-induced hallucination. The veil over Ollora lies torn and souls weave between the two realms.
It must be new… this tear… Ryc searched for them in the days following the eclipse. He found nothing then. Why would a tear appear now? Nothing has forced its way through—no demons at least.
It leads me to believe the veil will continue to weaken until Vaelyn mends it—addresses it. The fact he hasn’t yet is beyond infuriating. He cannot bethatbusy with the Layer Lords and the hells toneglecthis duty in caring for the veil.
I’ve yet to figure out how I walked so close to death—along life’s edge—withouta veilwalking ritual. I’m no lich. I can’t slip between the realms of the living and the dead at will. Nor am I ethereal. Not anymore. I’ve a corporeal body, alife.
I’m concerned it’ll happen again.
