The breath of the temple still lingered on Liora's skin as they stepped away from the shattered gate. The presence of the Veil had left her marked inside and out. Her body ached in places that had no name, her soul straining under the weight of what she'd seen beneath the stone.
But the path ahead offered no pause.
Ysolde led them quietly, her grip firm around her staff. She moved slowly, with the careful steps of someone measuring more than distance someone measuring time.
Tomas was silent at Liora's side. Since they'd left the ruins, he hadn't said much. His eyes were drawn to her constantly, full of concern and something else she couldn't name yet something like fear. She felt it too. Not fear for what lay ahead, but fear of the change inside her.
She was different now. The world felt sharper, louder. The thrum of the Veil pulsed beneath her feet like a second heartbeat, and sometimes, when she blinked, she could see strands of light webbing through the air threads that once would have been hidden to her.
"Liora," Ysolde said, her voice hushed and strained. "We must be cautious here. This place remembers blood."
They had reached a low vale, ringed by dead trees that twisted like frozen screams. The stone was pale, almost white, with strange red veins running through it like dried rivers. At the center, a path wound downward into a hollow that pulsed with a strange, humming silence.
"What is this place?" Liora whispered.
"It used to be a sanctuary," Ysolde said softly, her voice touched with sorrow. "A place of peace, of safety. But when the Veil was torn, everything changed. It didn't just break it bled. Now, it's no longer a refuge. It's a wound carved into the world, one that never healed. The pain still lingers, and the shadows that entered through it never truly left."
Tomas studied the trees, unease plain on his face. "It feels like something's watching us."
"They are," Ysolde murmured. "But don't look for eyes. They no longer need them."
They descended into the hollow slowly, every step stirring the silence like ripples on still water. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. Liora's breath caught in her throat, and she found herself reaching for Tomas's hand without thinking. His fingers closed around hers tightly.
Then came the sound.
A faint click. A scraping shuffle, like bone against stone.
Then another. And another.
Liora stopped walking. The air shifted, grew thick and sour.
She turned and the trees were moving.
No not the trees.
Things moved among them. Shapes formed from pale bone lashed together with sinew and shadow, their limbs too long, their joints all wrong. Empty sockets burned with dim red light. The creatures stepped forward silently, their movements smooth, almost curious.
"Run," Ysolde said, voice low and firm. "Don't stop. Don't look back."
But it was too late. The creatures pounced.
Liora barely had time to raise her hands before one was on her, claws outstretched. A burst of flame leapt from her palm, flinging the thing back, bones clattering across the stones like thrown dice. Tomas shouted, his sword already in hand, slashing through one of the attackers, sending ribs and fragments flying.
But more kept coming pouring from the shadows, rising from the earth itself.
Ysolde held her staff high, calling forth a barrier of searing light that held the tide at bay for a moment. "To the rocks!" she cried. "Up there we can channel them!"
Liora and Tomas followed her, scrambling up the broken slope, the creatures crawling after them like insects. Liora turned, throwing arcs of flame down the path. One by one the attackers caught fire, shrieking without mouths as they fell. But for every one they destroyed, two more took its place.
Then she heard it.
Tomas's cry.
She turned too fast just in time to see him fall.
One of the creatures had struck him from behind, its claws raking down his back, cutting deep. Blood sprayed the rocks, and Tomas collapsed with a choking groan.
"Tomas!" she screamed, diving toward him.
She barely made it to his side before another creature lunged. She spun and hurled a wave of fire, turning the thing to ash but not in time. More were closing in.
Ysolde reached them, her hands glowing with power. She slammed her staff to the ground, and the earth split beneath their enemies, sending a shockwave through the vale. Bones shattered and scattered, and the last of the creatures staggered back.
It was quiet again.
But Tomas wasn't moving.
Liora dropped to her knees beside him. "No no no Tomas look at me."
His eyes fluttered open, slow and heavy with pain. "Hey," he murmured, voice thin and broken like wind through brittle leaves. He tried to smile, though it trembled on his lips. "I'm not dead yet," he added, a weak spark of humor glinting through the agony etched across his face.
"You're not going to die" she said fiercely. "I've got you."
She pressed her hands to the wound on his back. Blood soaked her fingers. It wouldn't stop. The edges of the gash were dark, pulsing with a sickly shadow that made her skin crawl.
"It's poison," Ysolde said harshly. "Not from this world."
Liora looked up at her grandmother, desperation in her eyes. "There has to be a way. Please."
Ysolde knelt beside them, placing her hands over Liora's. "There is. But it's dangerous."
"I don't care."
"You'll have to burn the poison out. With your flame."
Liora hesitated. "What if I burn him too?"
Ysolde's eyes softened. "You won't. You love him."
Liora looked down at Tomas, who gave her a crooked smile even through his pain. "Do your worst, witch."
She took a shaky breath. Then, slowly, she reached for the flame inside her not the wildfire of destruction, but the gentle, steady warmth she'd felt in the temple. The First Flame.
She pressed her hands over the wound and let the fire flow.
Tomas arched in pain, a scream caught in his throat, but he didn't pull away. The blackness hissed and smoked, retreating under the light. The poison flared, tried to fight but the flame was stronger. It burned clean and pure, searing away the darkness without touching the flesh beneath.
When it was done, Tomas sagged into her arms, unconscious but breathing.
Liora collapsed beside him, trembling.
"You did it," Ysolde said quietly.
But Liora didn't feel victorious.
She felt empty. Scorched.
Night had fallen while they fought, and the hollow now lay in shadow.
They made camp beneath a rocky overhang, too weak to move further. Tomas lay curled on his side, wrapped in a thick cloak. His breathing was shallow but steady.
Ysolde prepared a healing draught, whispering words over the concoction as she stirred.
Liora sat silently, watching the fire.
"I almost lost him," she whispered.
Ysolde didn't look up. "You didn't."
"I was too slow. Too careless."
Ysolde placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "You're learning. This path is full of pain. But you're not walking it alone."
Liora nodded slowly, but the weight in her chest remained.
That night, sleep came in restless bursts.
She dreamed of bone and flame, of threads snapping in the dark. She saw Tomas bleeding out on the stones, saw Ysolde turn to dust in the wind. She saw herself standing alone at the edge of the world, the Veil torn wide behind her, and something vast and terrible waiting beyond it.
She woke with a gasp, the dream clinging to her like cobwebs.
The fire was low. Ysolde slept, her staff clutched tightly.
Liora rose quietly and stepped outside the overhang. The vale stretched before her, still and dead. But something moved at the edge of her sight. A flicker, a figure She turned and froze.
It stood at the top of the slope, watching her.
Tall veiled. Made of bone and ash, with a crown of thorns and a cloak of shadow.
The air around it sparkled with wrongness.
And in its hands, it held a thread. A glowing red thread.
Liora's heart slammed in her chest. It was hers. The fire thread.
The creature tilted its head, as if studying her.
Then it spoke.
Not with words, but with thought cold and ancient.
You are not ready.
Liora stepped forward. "What do you want?"
The Veil belongs to us. You are its mistake.
It raised the thread and twisted it.
Pain exploded in her chest, as if her heart had been set aflame. She fell to her knees, gasping.
The figure turned and vanished into the dark.
Liora lay shaking, her body cold despite the fire within her.
When she finally stumbled back to camp, Ysolde was awake, her face pale.
"I felt it," she whispered.
"It took my thread," Liora said, voice hollow. "It knows me."
Ysolde stood, wrapping her arms around her granddaughter. "Then we'll make it know fear."
Liora clung to her, her heart still burning with the creature's mark.
They had survived the Bone Chorus.
But something worse had begun.
And the threads of the world trembled with what was coming.