The ruins of Al'Khari seemed even more desolate in the light of dawn. A dull, gray fog clung to the shattered buildings, and the cold air pressed in around Azra as she climbed out of the underground chamber. Her body ached with exhaustion and grief, her mind reeling from everything that had happened. Kian's death was a wound that hadn't even begun to heal, and yet the world moved on, uncaring. The veil still teetered on the edge of collapse, and Al'Khari still hummed with the dark energy of the curse.
Azra stood on the edge of the ruined street, her eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. The city was unnervingly quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to break.
The memory of Kian's final words echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of the promise she had made to him. She had to finish this. She had to protect the veil, no matter the cost. But as she stood there, alone in the crumbling city, the weight of that responsibility felt heavier than ever.
Azra's fingers brushed against the hilt of her blade, the familiar sensation grounding her in the present moment. She needed to focus. She needed to keep moving. The creatures of Al'Khari wouldn't stay hidden forever, and the power behind the veil was still lurking, waiting for its chance to break free.
She turned toward the east, where the towering Gate of the Forgotten stood in the distance. Her father's notes had mentioned that the gate was tied to the heart of the veil, acting as both a barrier and a key to whatever lay beyond it. If she was going to finish this, the gate was where she needed to go.
But the thought of facing it alone filled her with dread.
As Azra began to move toward the gate, her steps slow and deliberate, a flicker of movement caught her eye. She stopped, her hand instinctively going to her blade as she scanned the ruins around her. The shadows between the crumbling buildings shifted, and for a moment, she thought she saw a figure—tall, dark, and familiar.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Kian?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The figure moved again, stepping out of the shadows, and Azra's breath caught in her throat. It looked like him—the same broad shoulders, the same dark hair—but there was something off about it. The way he moved was strange, unnatural, like a puppet on strings.
"Kian!" Azra called out, louder this time, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and fear.
The figure turned toward her, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, she saw his face—sharp, handsome, and unmistakable. It was him.
Azra took a step forward, her heart pounding. "Kian, how—"
But then the figure's eyes flashed, and Azra froze. They weren't Kian's eyes. They were dark, empty pits of shadow, glowing faintly with an eerie, otherworldly light. The figure smiled—a twisted, mocking grin that sent a chill down her spine.
"Kian is gone," the figure said, its voice a distorted echo of Kian's, warped and wrong. "But his soul… belongs to the veil now."
Azra's blood ran cold. The figure standing before her wasn't Kian—it was something else, something dark and twisted, using his face like a mask. Her hand tightened around her blade as anger and grief surged through her in equal measure.
"You're not him," she spat, her voice trembling with fury. "You don't get to wear his face."
The figure tilted its head, its smile widening. "I don't need to be him. He gave himself willingly to the veil, and now his spirit serves the same power that you fight against. You'll join him soon enough."
Azra's heart pounded in her chest, the fury burning hotter with every word the creature spoke. Kian hadn't sacrificed himself for this. He had given his life to protect the veil, to keep the darkness at bay. But now, the very power he had fought to control was twisting his memory, using him against her.
"I won't let you take him," Azra growled, her blade flashing in the dull morning light. "And I won't let you win."
The figure let out a low, rumbling laugh, its body shifting and twisting, the shadows around it growing darker. "You think you can stop the inevitable? The veil is already breaking. The gate will open, and everything your father tried to protect will be lost. You're too late, Azra."
Azra's breath came in sharp, furious bursts, her grip on her sword tightening until her knuckles turned white. The figure's words echoed in her mind, but she refused to believe them. She wasn't too late. She couldn't be. She had to finish this—for Kian, for her father, for everything they had fought for.
Without another word, Azra lunged forward, her blade aimed straight for the creature's heart. But as she swung, the figure dissolved into shadows, slipping through her grasp like smoke. Azra stumbled, her blade cutting through empty air, and the creature's mocking laughter echoed all around her.
"You can't fight what's already begun," the creature's voice hissed from the shadows. "You can't save him, Azra. You can't even save yourself."
Azra whirled around, her eyes darting through the shadows, but the figure was gone. The ruins around her were still and silent once more, as if the creature had never been there at all.
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her mind racing. She knew it wasn't real. The creature wasn't Kian, but it was a reminder of the power she was up against—something dark, something ancient, something that could twist the very fabric of reality. The veil wasn't just weakening. It was corrupting everything it touched.
Azra wiped the sweat from her brow, her hands still trembling with the aftershock of the encounter. She couldn't let it shake her. She had to stay focused. The gate was still her destination, the key to everything. If she could reach it, if she could find a way to reinforce the veil from there, maybe—just maybe—she could stop the collapse.
But as she continued her trek toward the gate, the weight of the creature's words clung to her like a shadow. You can't save him…
The grief threatened to swallow her whole, but Azra pushed it down, burying it beneath her resolve. Kian was gone. She couldn't let herself dwell on that now. She had to stay strong. She had to keep moving.
As the gate loomed closer on the horizon, its towering structure casting a long shadow over the ruins, Azra felt a strange sense of foreboding settle over her. The air around the gate was thick with dark energy, the symbols etched into its surface glowing faintly with an eerie light. The veil was thinner here, more fragile, and the power beyond it was pressing against the gate, eager to break free.
Azra approached slowly, her pulse quickening as she took in the sight before her. The gate was massive, its stone surface carved with intricate designs—symbols of binding and protection, the same ones her father had studied in his journals. But they were fading, the magic that once held them strong unraveling before her eyes.
Her heart sank.
The gate wasn't going to hold.
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against the cold stone, and a shiver ran down her spine. The dark energy radiating from the gate was almost overwhelming, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, pulling her toward it like a magnet. The whispers returned, soft and insidious, filling her mind with thoughts she didn't want to entertain.
Let us in…
Azra clenched her jaw, her hand tightening into a fist. She wouldn't give in. She wouldn't let the darkness win.
But as she stood there, staring up at the towering gate, she felt the weight of the world pressing down on her. Kian was gone. Her father was gone. And now, she was standing on the brink of a disaster that could destroy everything.
For the first time, Azra wondered if the creature had been right.
Was she too late?