Powerful? She couldn’t even master simple Spellbound magic and yet this Shadow queen spoke as though deep down she had a reason to revere her…maybe even fear her. What had her Seer abilities revealed that Caramyn could not see?
Caramyn laughed despite the pain in her mind. She would delay Sinevia as long as she could manage, no matter how deeply she cut. And as Sinevia filled her head with more horrific visions, she reached for her bow and took aim, desperate to end whatever game she was playing with her mind. Her Soldiers were all dead now. There was nothing to stop her.
The target was her upper arm, covered by no protection but the black sleeves of her elegant dress—nonlethal—and it would have been a perfect shot. But it flew right through her, as though she was no more than a ghost. Sinevia glanced up at her through an opening in the thick, dark branches. “Did you think I would really enter these Woods in flesh, unarmored, and unguarded?”
“How…how are you here then?”
“I’m very much here, girl. My mind. My power. But not my body. A Seer’s greatest capabilities lie in illusion and transcendence—when one is willing to breach the limits.”
“When one is willing to embrace forbidden magic, you mean,” Caramyn shot back beneath her breath.
It made sense now, why the Shadows couldn’t drive her out. She wasn’t really there. No matter how real she looked, spokeand moved, it wasn’t truly her. And that meant the real Sinevia…was somewhere else.
Perhaps still back in Felhold, safe on her throne. Perhaps standing right outside at the edge of the Woods. Or perhaps already at The Veil.
Suddenly she saw it flash before her mind. Another vision, brutal and unyielding. Asterious. Weak on his knees, trembling and covered in blood—Wyran’s blood. He’d fought him, nearly to the death, with the Shadowblood’s Blade, and now he was kneeling with it aimed toward himself, the tip of the sword hovering over his chest.
“No! Asterious!” She screamed his name into the nothingness of the forest around her, as if maybe by some miracle—if it wasn’t just another illusion—he might hear her.
A wave of otherworldly force rippled through the air, and with it, a sharp pain reverberated in her chest. Had she felt it? Was that the moment Asterious had driven the Blade through his own heart? Was she too late to save him? Was any of it even real? She crouched over in pain, clinging to the branch from where she perched as Sinevia’s laugh filled the space between them.
“So worried about my beastly little brother, aren’t you?” Sinevia purred.
“It was just one of your visions—your lies…” Caramyn cried, tears welling as she pressed her hands to the sides of her face, trying to block out everything. It couldn’t be real…it couldn’t be…
But what if it was? What if she couldn’t reach him in time. What if…what if…
“The thing about illusions, dear girl, is that they cannot manipulate the past. Only the future—because the future is not set. There are many paths it can take. I just have the power to show you the possibilities.” Sinevia’s stare could’ve pierced armor as she spoke, her voice like midnight. “What you saw mayvery well be Asterious’ future if you do not stop him. Or, it may already be his past, because you failed to do it fast enough.”
“You expect me to believe anything you’re saying?” Caramyn cried, terrified that she was already too late. “You just want to trick me into leading you to him and to the Veil.”
“I don’t expect you to believe me. I don’t care if you do. But if you don’t, I will still find the Veil one way or another, eventually. But if you do,” Sinevia continue softly, “you might still stand a chance at saving your prince.”
“How?” Caramyn groaned through clenched teeth.
“Because if you simply show me where the Veil is—show me in your mind—I can take us there. Right now. In less than a heartbeat.” Sinevia’s smile sharpened. “And if Asterious really is there waiting with a sword aimed at his own heart, you may yet save him.”
And if he’s not…
Then it wouldn’t matter. If Asterious was already gone, nothing would matter at all. He was supposed to be the rightful king. Hewas supposed to restore the balance of Light and Shadow and save its people. He wasn’t supposed to die.
Just like he wasn’t supposed to break her heart.
“Fine,” Caramyn said, the word torn from her through the tears burning down her face. She dropped from the tree, boots crunching into the snow, and turned to face Sinevia, who watched her calmly from atop her black mare.
The queen slid down from her horse and extended her hand. “Lead me to the Veil.”
The weight of the choice stung like ice in Caramyn’s lungs. But the image would not leave her—of Asterious plunging that blade through his chest and bleeding out on the snow—and the choice became crystal clear.
She closed her eyes and reached for Sinevia’s hand, picturing the path she’d taken so long ago out of sheer curiosity tothe depths of the Woods where the Veil loomed. And in an instant, when her fingers touched Sinevia’s open palm, the world unstitched.
Cold vanished. Sound collapsed. It felt as though her thoughts were being wrenched open, peeled back layer by layer, as Sinevia’s will slid through her memories with ruthless precision. The path through the Woods blazed behind her eyes. The twisted roots, the narrowing dark, the heavy, suffocating pull in the air as the Veil drew near. Space folded inward, crushed, and remade around that single remembered place.
And for a breathless, agonizing instant, she was nowhere at all. Somewhere even the Shadows couldn’t reach, caught between heartbeat and thought—all in the span of a blink.
And then she was there—feet slammed into solid ground again, winter air brushed her skin, and the overbearing weight of the Veil hung before her, presiding over a broken, blood-spattered Asterious—who stood staring down at the sword in his hands.
But he wasn’t aiming it at himself. Instead, he held the length of it across both hands, the flat edge resting in one hand as his eyes stared down at the hilt in the other, as if deep in contemplation.
