He gestured toward the distortion, and I could see it more clearly now. The Veil wasn’t just bent at that spot, it wasscarred. Like something had torn through it with enough force to leave a permanent wound in the fabric between worlds.
“That’s impossible,” I breathed. “I just... I just stepped through it.”
“You didn’t step through it,” Varyth corrected, his attention fixed on the damaged barrier. “Youburnedthrough it. Your magic carved a path where there shouldn’t have been one.”
The song stirred beneath my skin, responding to his words like it recognised that twisted section.
“Most beings who cross the Veil,” Varyth continued, moving closer to the distortion. “Leave barely a ripple. The barrier heals itself within moments, sealing the passage like it never existed.” He reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from the scarred section. “But this? This is still here. Still bleeding magic into both realms.”
Darian whistled low under his breath. “That’s... not normal.”
“No,” Varyth agreed, tone dropping to something almost reverent. “It’s not.”
I stared at the wound I’d apparently carved, my mind reeling. “You’re saying I damaged the Veil?”
“I’m saying youmarkedit.” Varyth turned to face me, and there was a hunger in his expression that made every instinct I had scream warnings. “The magic didn’t just help you cross, it claimed territory. Staked a claim on the boundary between worlds.”
I stumbled backward, my breathing going shallow as panic clawed at my throat.
“That’s why they can find me,” I whispered. “The attacks, the assassins, they’re not just sensing my magic. They’re following the fucking trail I left.”
“Partly, yes.” Varyth’s voice was maddeningly calm. “Though it’s more complicated than that.”
“More complicated how?” I snapped. “Because it seems pretty fucking straightforward to me. I ripped a hole in reality, left magic signalling my location, and now every nightmare in this realm wants to collect the prize.”
“The scar isn’t signalling your location,” Varyth said patiently. “It’s signalling yournature. What you are. What you’re capable of.” His eyes gleamed with that dangerous light. “And that’s why we’re here.”
He moved closer to the distorted section of the Veil, his movements careful but determined. “The barrier holds memories, Isara. Echoes of everything that’s ever crossed it. And right here.” He pressed his palm against the air just inches from the scar, and the space around his hand began to shimmer. “Right here, it remembers you.”
I could feel the Veil’s memory pressing against my consciousness like a living thing.
The sensation of being pulled apart while something ancient and hungry tried to devour me from the inside out. But underneath that agony was something else. Something that made my breath catch and the fire beneath my skin roar to life.
Power. Raw, untamed, furious power that had torn through the barrier.
I could hear Darian’s footsteps crunching away across the clearing, retreating to give us space probably. But I didn’t turn to watch him go.
Varyth stayed perfectly still, his hand hovering near the scar I’d carved, studying the distortion like it held answers to questions I didn’t even know to ask.
Then he turned his head, catching me with the full weight of his gaze.
“Is there anything you miss about it?”
“About what?”
“About being human.”
The question landed like a punch. Not because it was cruel, though maybe it was a little. But because it was so utterly unexpected that I didn’t have time to build my usual defences.
“Not necessarily... being human itself.” The words came honest. “But sometimes I struggle to recognise myself. I look in mirrors and I’m not sure if it’s because of this—” I gestured vaguely at my pointed ear, the feature that marked me as something other than what I’d been for thirty years. “Or everything else I’ve been through.”
My hand fell back to my side. “But there are some things I miss about home.”
“Like what?” Varyth asked, the curiosity in his tone genuine.
I hesitated for a moment, letting my gaze drift to the faint outline of the trees ahead.
“The local apothecary.” A faint smile tugged at my lips. “It always smelled like this wonderful combination of sage and jasmine. I used to go there as a child, just to breathe it in.”
