The spiralling chasm loomed before Lirion and Maerlyn, its faint golden glow pulsing in time with the rhythmic hum of the Veilstream. Around them, the crowd murmured in frightened tones, their unease growing with each passing moment. The air was heavy, charged with an energy that made Lirion's skin crawl.
"Master Maerlyn," a guard captain called out, his armour scuffed from the earlier shockwave. "Shall we seal off the area? This... thing—it's unsettling the people."
Maerlyn shook his head, his gaze fixed on the chasm. "No. This is not something that can be hidden or ignored. The Veilstream is speaking to us. If we turn away, we may not get another chance to listen."
Lirion stepped closer to the edge, peering into the abyss. The glow seemed to deepen as it descended, illuminating twisting veins of light etched into the rock. He felt a strange pull, as if the chasm were calling to him.
"What do you see?" Maerlyn asked, joining him.
Lirion hesitated. "It's hard to describe. It feels... alive. Like it's watching us."
Maerlyn nodded grimly. "The Veilstream connects all things—life, magic, and even thought. What lies down there may be more than we can comprehend."
A deep voice from behind them broke the moment. "Then perhaps we shouldn't meddle with it at all."
They turned to see Arkin Stoneforge striding toward them, his massive Warhammer slung across his back. Beside him was Lyssara, the high weaver, her robes trailing over the broken cobblestones.
"You should be with the council," Maerlyn said, his tone cool.
"And miss this?" Arkin gestured at the chasm with a wry grin. "Hardly. If this thing poses a threat to Eltarion, I want to be here to face it."
Lyssara sighed. "Arkin's bravado aside, the council agrees that we need answers. If the Veilstream is unravelling, we cannot afford to wait. That means going down there." She gave Maerlyn a pointed look. "I assume you were already considering it."
"I was," Maerlyn admitted. "But this is no simple expedition. The chasm is a direct connection to the Veilstream. Entering it could be dangerous—even fatal."
"All the more reason for haste," Lyssara replied. "Whatever lies within could hold the key to preventing further disasters. Or to ensuring we survive them."
Maerlyn turned to Lirion. "This is your choice. I will not force you to go where even I cannot guarantee safety. But if you come, you must be prepared for whatever awaits."
Lirion hesitated, his heart pounding. The weight of the decision pressed on him, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that he was meant to go. "I'll do it," he said, his voice firm. "If the Veilstream is calling, we have to answer."
Arkin grinned. "That's the spirit, boy! I'll come with you. I've faced dragons and marauders. Whatever's down there can't be worse."
Lyssara rolled her eyes. "I'll prepare protective wards. We'll need all the magical defences we can muster."
Maerlyn nodded. "Then it's settled. We leave as soon as preparations are complete."
Hours later, the group stood at the edge of the chasm, ready to descend. Maerlyn had inscribed runes of protection on each of them, the faint glow of the glyphs giving them a ghostly appearance in the dim light. Lyssara carried a staff crackling with raw energy, while Arkin's warhammer gleamed with reforged Veilsteel, a metal known to amplify magic.
As they began their descent, Maerlyn conjured a sphere of light to guide their way. The rocky walls of the chasm shimmered with veins of gold and silver, the hum of the Veilstream growing louder with each step.
"This place..." Lyssara murmured, her voice tinged with awe. "It's more than a tear in the Veil. It's a wound, and the magic is bleeding out."
"It feels... wrong," Lirion said, shivering despite the warmth of the glowing veins. "Like it's alive, but in pain."
"That's because it is," Maerlyn replied. "The Veilstream isn't just energy; it's the lifeblood of the realms. If it's damaged, we'll feel its effects everywhere."
They continued in silence, the air growing denser with each step. Strange whispers echoed around them, indistinct and fleeting. Lirion caught fragments of words—his name, half-formed warnings—but when he turned to look, the shadows were empty.
"Did you hear that?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Hear what?" Arkin replied, glancing back.
"The whispers," Lirion said.
"They're real," Maerlyn said quietly. "But they're not voices in the way you think. The Veilstream remembers. What you hear are echoes of its past—fragments of thoughts, emotions, and events woven into its fabric."
Lirion swallowed hard and kept moving, his eyes darting nervously between the glowing walls.
After what felt like hours, they reached a cavern at the bottom of the chasm. It was vast, its walls carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and flow as they watched. At the centre of the cavern was a pool of liquid light, its surface rippling with golden waves.
"This is it," Maerlyn said, his voice reverent. "The heart of the Veilstream."
Before anyone could respond, the pool began to churn violently. The light intensified, and from its depths rose a figure—taller than the one they'd seen before, its form more defined. It bore a humanoid shape but was covered in a lattice of glowing lines, its eyes blazing with power.
The whispers grew louder, forming coherent words that echoed in their minds.
"Trespassers. The weave frays, and you walk its strands. Why have you come?"
"We seek to mend the Veilstream," Maerlyn said, stepping forward. "The Sundering threatens all realms. If we don't act, everything will fall."
The figure tilted its head as if considering his words. "The Sundering is not yours to stop. It is a reckoning—a consequence of mortal hubris."
Lirion's heart raced. "What do you mean? We didn't cause this!"
The figure's gaze shifted to him, and he felt a crushing weight in his chest. "The Veilstream remembers. The choices of the past echo in the present. The Sundering is the price for a broken promise."
Before they could respond, the figure raised a hand, and the cavern trembled. The walls began to collapse, glowing veins splintering into shards of light.
"Run!" Maerlyn shouted.
But as they turned to flee, the figure's voice thundered in their minds once more.
"You cannot run from the truth. Face it, or perish with the weave."
With a blinding flash, the cavern erupted in light, and Lirion's world dissolved into chaos.