When I reach a small clearing, the air changes. It's a heavier, almost hungry feeling.The trees around me lean inward as if listening.
At the center of the clearing, there’s a perfect circle of dead earth.
No scorch marks. No magical residue. No displacement of energy.
Which means one thing: A door opened here. A door that didn’t rip or tear the Veil—butslipped through it quietly. I crouch, brushing my fingers over the withered soil. The moment my magic touches it, something cold presses back.
A memory. The ground hums once, like an echo of something stepping through. Then nothing.
This isn’t some wild Veil-creature acting on instinct. This is purposeful. Old. A predator disguised as stillness.
I stand slowly. “What took them?”
The air shivers. A chill rolls over the clearing. My magic reacts instantly, rising from my feet and wrapping around me as my wings unfurl. Shadows on the forest floor tremble, stretch, and then—impossibly—lift.
A voice threads through them, layered and distant.
Child of Shadow…
My spine goes rigid.
“I’m listening,” I say quietly.
The shadows ripple, shifting in ways no natural shadow should—flowing against the sunlight.
The weave frays.
The border thins.
And those who slept wake hungry.
My grip tightens. “Why show me this?”
Because she stands where the threads cross.
Where the tear will open.
Lindsay.
The clearing seems to tilt beneath me.
“No,” I snap. “You’re lying.”
The shadow shivers like it’s laughing.
We do not lie.
We warn.
Images flood my vision—jagged, quick, stabbing pain behind my eyes.
The academy hallway. A flicker of lights. A student walking alone.
A long, narrow hand of living darkness reaching from the wall. Red eyes bleeding like open wounds. A pull—silent and absolute. The student collapses inward—disappearing into nothing.
Gone. Erased. Unmade. Forgotten.
I stagger, catching myself against a tree, breath ripping in and out of my lungs.
