The world seemed to freeze as Arathor's words sliced through the air. Lira's pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the distant alarms and the hurried voices of the Syndicate operatives. Her hand instinctively tightened around the Veil, its warmth now scorching.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, forcing her voice to stay steady.
Arathor's smirk deepened as he stepped closer, his silhouette looming under the flickering neon lights of the alley. "You really think the Veil chose you to save the world?" He laughed, a sound as smooth as it was venomous. "No, little one. You were chosen to finish what it started—to destroy the Voidborn and this world along with it."
Selene stepped forward, her blaster trained on him. "Stay back, Arathor, or I swear I'll end this here."
Arathor barely acknowledged her, his piercing eyes locked on Lira. "Oh, she hasn't told you, has she?" He gestured lazily to the Veil. "The artifact whispering sweet nothings in your ear? It's not a weapon. It's a prison key. And you…" He let the sentence linger, his grin widening. "You're the lock."
Lira's breath caught, and for a moment, the Veil's whispers softened, as though pleading with her.
---
"Enough of your games!" Selene barked, her finger tightening on the trigger. "Lira, don't listen to him. He's trying to mess with your head. The Syndicate thrives on fear and manipulation."
But doubt was already clawing its way into Lira's mind. What if Arathor wasn't lying? What if the Veil's silence after her bond wasn't trust, but calculation?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden crackle of the Warden's voice through her earpiece. "Lira, Selene, you must retreat immediately. Syndicate reinforcements are closing in on your location."
"We can take them," Selene snapped, her eyes never leaving Arathor.
"No," the Warden insisted. "You're outnumbered, and their tech is superior. Fall back *now.*"
Lira turned to Selene, but Arathor's voice stopped her.
"You can run, but you can't escape the truth," he said, his tone deceptively soft. "The Veil is playing you, just as it played the others before you."
---
A sharp whistle split the tension as Aelis appeared above them, perched precariously on the edge of a fire escape. "Hate to break up the heart-to-heart, but we've got a lot of heavily armed friends heading this way. Time to go!"
Selene fired a warning shot at Arathor, forcing him to step back, before grabbing Lira's arm. "Move!"
The trio bolted down the alley, Aelis leaping down to join them as the first wave of Syndicate operatives appeared at the other end. The sound of boots pounding on concrete and the crack of energy rifles filled the air.
"Head for the canals!" Selene shouted, her voice barely audible over the chaos.
Lira's legs burned as she ran, the Veil's weight on her wrist feeling heavier with every step. She could feel the artifact pulsing, almost as if it were trying to guide her.
"This way!" she yelled, veering down a side street.
The others followed without question, trusting her instinct—or perhaps trusting the Veil.
---
The group reached the canals, where rows of abandoned gondolas floated in murky water under the cover of Vertis's sprawling highways. Aelis quickly rigged a trap, scattering explosives across the narrow bridges.
"Buy us some time," he said with a grin, tossing the trigger to Selene.
Lira paused, glancing back at the shadows moving in the distance. The Syndicate was relentless, but so was Arathor's voice in her mind.
"Why did you run, Lira?" his words echoed. "Don't you want to know the truth?"
The Veil flared suddenly, the whispers sharp and urgent. A single image flashed in Lira's mind—an ancient temple, bathed in crimson light.
She stumbled, gripping her head as the vision seared into her consciousness.
Selene caught her. "Lira! What's wrong?"
"I saw… something," she panted. "A temple. The Veil—it's showing me something."
Selene frowned. "We don't have time for that right now. Let's get out of here first."
---
As they climbed into one of the gondolas, the sound of an explosion rocked the air. Aelis's trap had detonated, temporarily cutting off their pursuers.
But as the gondola began to drift down the canal, Lira noticed something. A faint shimmer in the water beneath them—a distortion, like heat rising off asphalt.
"Stop," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"What is it now?" Aelis asked, peering over the edge.
Before she could answer, the gondola lurched violently, sending them sprawling. From the water rose a towering figure clad in black armor, its face obscured by a smooth, reflective visor.
"Voidborn," Lira breathed.
But as the figure stepped closer, its voice—deep and mechanical—spoke a single word:
"Traitor."
The Veil's whispers screamed in Lira's mind, but this time, they were not alone. A second voice, cold and familiar, joined the cacophony.
"I warned you, Lira," Arathor's voice echoed. "You can't trust it. And now it's time to choose—me, or your precious Veil."
The armored figure lunged, and the gondola shattered beneath them, plunging them into darkness.