The Council chamber was grand, with high ceilings and walls adorned with golden carvings that depicted the history of Aetheria. The Council members sat on raised platforms, their golden wings folded neatly behind them. High Lumina Seraphine, the leader of the Council, regarded Auriel with a cool, appraising gaze.
Auriel stood before them, her long, curly red hair tied back in a loose braid, her green eyes scanned the faces of the Council members, searching for any sign of understanding or support. But their expressions were impassive, their eyes cold and distant.
"You claim the Veil is unstable," Seraphine said, her voice calm but firm. "Yet you offer no proof."
Auriel took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. "I've felt it, High Lumina. The tremors, the ripples… they're growing stronger. If we don't act soon, it could mean disaster for all the realms."
Seraphine's expression remained impassive. "The Veil has always been unpredictable. What you're describing could simply be a natural fluctuation."
"With all due respect, High Lumina," Auriel said, her voice steady despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface, "this is different. I've studied the Veil for years. I know what I'm talking about."
The other Council members exchanged glances, their expressions skeptical. One of them, a tall Luminari with sharp features, leaned forward. "And what would you have us do, Auriel? Send our forces to investigate based on a feeling?"
Auriel clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I'm not asking for an army. Just give me the resources to investigate. If I'm wrong, I'll accept the consequences. But if I'm right…"
Seraphine raised a hand, silencing her. "Enough. The Council has made its decision. We will monitor the situation, but we will not allocate resources based on speculation."
Auriel's heart sank, but she nodded. "Understood, High Lumina."
As she turned to leave, Seraphine's voice stopped her. "Auriel."
She turned back, her green eyes meeting Seraphine's. "Yes, High Lumina?"
Seraphine's gaze softened, just slightly. "Be careful. The Veil is not to be trifled with."
Auriel nodded, though her mind was already racing. If the Council wouldn't help her, she would have to take matters into her own hands.
---
The journey from Umbra to Aetheria was fraught with danger. The Veil's instability had created unpredictable rifts, and the borders between the realms were more treacherous than ever. Lucien moved swiftly and silently, his silver hair blending into the shadows as he navigated the jagged terrain. His gray eyes scanned the horizon, ever watchful for signs of Luminari patrols or the telltale shimmer of a Veil storm.
As he approached the border of Aetheria, he paused, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. The air here was different—lighter, cleaner, with a faint golden glow that made his skin prickle. He hated it. The light of Aetheria was too bright, too pure, a stark contrast to the darkness he was accustomed to. But he had a mission to complete, and he wouldn't let his discomfort get in the way.
Lucien slipped through the Veil, the transition sending a shiver down his spine. The moment he crossed into Aetheria, he felt the weight of the realm's magic pressing against him, as if the very air was trying to expel him. He clenched his jaw and focused on his task. He couldn't afford to be discovered, not now.
He had a mission: gather information about the Veil's instability and report back to Shadowlord Nyxar. But first, he needed to get inside the citadel—and that wouldn't be easy.
Lucien moved swiftly, his dark cloak blending seamlessly with the night. He spotted a group of Luminari guards patrolling the perimeter, their golden wings glinting in the moonlight. He waited, his breath steady, until the guards passed. Then, with a swift, fluid motion, he scaled the wall and slipped into the citadel.
Inside, the air was filled with the faint hum of magic. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings and glowing runes, and the floors were polished to a mirror-like shine. Lucien moved silently through the halls, his gray eyes scanning for any sign of his target.
---
Lucien found the Archives easily enough, the heavy wooden doors guarded by two Luminari sentinels. He waited in the shadows, his gray eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. The guards were alert, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. He would have to be quick.
With a flick of his wrist, Lucien summoned a shadowy tendril, sending it slithering across the floor toward the guards. The tendril wrapped around one guard's ankle, yanking him off balance. The other guard turned, his eyes widening in alarm, but Lucien was already moving. He darted forward, his dagger flashing in the dim light, and struck the second guard with the hilt of his blade. The guard crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Lucien stepped over the fallen guards and pushed open the doors to the Archives. The room was vast, with towering shelves filled with books and scrolls. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, and the faint glow of magical orbs illuminated the space.
He moved quickly, his gray eyes scanning the shelves for anything that might be useful. He found a section dedicated to the Veil and began pulling books and scrolls, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. He didn't have time to read everything, so he focused on titles and keywords: "Veil instability," "prophecies," "ancient magic."
As he worked, a faint sound caught his attention—a soft rustling, like the turning of a page. Lucien froze, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger. He turned slowly, his gray eyes scanning the room.
There, in the far corner, was a figure. A woman with long, curly red hair and silver streaks that shimmered in the light. She was bent over a large tome, her green eyes scanning the pages with intense focus.
For a moment, Lucien hesitated. There was something about her—something that drew him in, even as his instincts screamed at him to stay focused. But he quickly shook off the feeling and slipped back into the shadows. He had a mission to complete, and he couldn't afford any distractions.
---
As Lucien moved through the citadel, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being pulled toward something—or someone. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, like a thread tugging at his chest. He didn't understand it, but he knew it was important.
He pushed the feeling aside and focused on his task. He had what he needed—for now. But as he slipped out of the citadel and into the night, he couldn't help but glance back at the towering spires, his gray eyes lingering on the faint glow of the Archives.
Who was she? And why did he feel this pull toward her?