I wake to screaming.
The whisper still lingers in my mind, curling around my thoughts like smoke. You don't have enough time. The words echo, slipping away as I jolt upright, heart hammering. For a moment, I don't know where I am—caught between the fading remnants of that voice and the harsh reality of Thorne thrashing beside me.
Morning light filters into the cave, pale and indifferent. Thorne's eyes are open but unseeing, his body locked in some unseen battle.
"No—not there—don't open it—" His voice is hoarse, rising to a frantic shout. "Aria! Behind you! The shadows!"
I grab his shoulders, shaking him hard. "Thorne! Wake up! It's just a dream."
His body stills instantly, but when his eyes meet mine, they're sharp—too sharp for someone who just woke from a nightmare.
"Not a dream," he rasps, his grip like iron as he clamps a hand around my wrist. "A warning."
Cold fear slides down my spine. "From who?"
He swallows hard, his gaze flickering past me, as if expecting something to be standing there. "We need to go. Now."
"Who's coming? The Stalkers?"
"Worse." He struggles to sit up. "Help me. We need to reach Millhaven before nightfall."
"How did you know about—?" I begin, then remember. "You heard. In the Blood Memory vision."
"Some part of me did." He grimaces as I help him stand. The corruption has indeed receded somewhat, though dark veins still trace patterns across his chest. "Your mother always did plan for every contingency."
Outside the cave, the ridge is bathed in morning light. No sign of the Stalkers or any other threat. But Thorne's urgency is contagious, and we begin making our way down the far side of the ridge toward the distant column of smoke.
The descent is treacherous—loose rocks and steep drops requiring careful navigation. Thorne moves better than yesterday but is still far from his normal agility. By midday, we reach the base and begin crossing the valley toward Millhaven.
"What was your nightmare about?" I ask as we pause to rest in the shade of a massive oak.
Thorne's expression darkens. "Not a nightmare. A sending."
"From whom?"
"Not sure. But the message was clear enough. The attempt to open a gateway yesterday—it drew attention. Not just your father's."
A chill runs down my spine. "The Covenant? The Purifiers?"
"Maybe. Or something else entirely." He looks westward, toward our destination. "There are powers in this world that have waited centuries for someone with your abilities to emerge."
"You make it sound like I'm important."
His gaze returns to me, solemn and intent. "More than you know. The ability to create passages between realms without ritual or sacrifice—it's the rarest of gifts. And the most coveted."
We continue onward, the terrain gradually shifting from forest to rolling farmland. The smoke column grows clearer—indeed a small village nestled in the valley below. Millhaven looks peaceful from a distance, a cluster of stone buildings surrounding a central square.
"We'll need a story," Thorne says as we approach. "Nothing about demons or Veil Lands."
"Bandits," I suggest. "Attacked on the road to Ravenwatch. You were injured defending me."
He nods. "Simple. Believable. Keep to it no matter what."
As we near the village outskirts, I notice something odd. No movement. No people visible in the fields or paths.
"Where is everyone?" I murmur.
Thorne's hand moves to the knife at his belt. "Stay alert."
We enter the main street cautiously. The buildings appear intact, but an unnatural silence hangs over everything. No children playing, no merchants calling their wares. Even the livestock pens stand empty.
"Something's wrong," Thorne whispers.
I focus on the village ahead, the system flashing an area scan across my vision.
Millhaven VillageStatus: Recently evacuated. Traces of multiple magical signatures detected.Warning: Active dimensional anomaly detected at village center.
The words appear in sharp clarity, like a warning that cuts through the tension in the air. My stomach tightens. Something's not right here. I glance at the village, once a place of life, now abandoned, the empty buildings looming like silent witnesses to whatever chaos has unfolded.
"There's an anomaly at the center of the village," I mumble under my breath, barely above a whisper. "And everyone's gone."
Thorne starts to respond, then freezes, his gaze fixed on something behind me. I turn slowly.
In the center of the village square stands a swirling portal—smaller than my failed attempt on the ridge, but far more stable. Its edges glow with runes I don't recognize, its center a rippling darkness that seems to devour the surrounding light.
"That's not possible," Thorne breathes. "A stabilized gateway, without a caster present to maintain it?"
Before I can respond, figures begin emerging from the surrounding buildings—at least a dozen men and women dressed in matching gray robes. Each wears a silver pendant around their neck—a full moon with a smaller dark circle overlapping it.
"The eclipsed moon," I whisper, remembering my mother's words. "The Twilight Accord!"
Hope surges within me, but Thorne doesn't relax. "Maybe. Or a trap."
One of the robed figures steps forward—a tall woman with streaks of gray in her dark hair and keen eyes that seem to look right through me.
"Aria Moonshadow," she says, her voice carrying clearly across the square. "We've been waiting for you."
"Who are you?" I demand, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.
"My name is Eryndisa. I serve the Twilight Accord." Her voice is smooth, measured—yet beneath it, there is an edge of steel. She lifts a hand, gesturing toward the portal behind her. Shadows coil at its edges, shifting unnaturally. "And this is your doing, child. Your reckless attempt on the ridge yesterday tore the veil between worlds. You didn't just open a door—you left a wound. Now, something is bleeding through."
A cold weight settles in my stomach. A wound. That means it won't just close on its own.
"The villagers?" My voice is barely above a whisper.
"Evacuated—for now." Eryndisa's gaze flicks toward Thorne. Her expression sharpens. "But you don't have long. The corruption in him spreads swiftly. If it reaches his heart, he is lost. We have healers, but if you delay much longer…" She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.
Thorne shifts beside me, stepping forward just enough to place himself between me and the robed figures. Despite his injuries, his stance is solid—protective, unwavering. "And how do we know this isn't a trap?" His voice is low, edged with suspicion. "That you're truly with the Accord?"
For the first time, Eryndisa's composure flickers—not in offense, but as if she expected the question. Slowly, she reaches into the folds of her robe and withdraws something small, something that catches the light—a crescent moon pendant, identical to mine. But where my gem glows a cool, steady blue, hers pulses deep violet, like a star caught in twilight.
"Because Mira Moonshadow was my sister," she says simply. "Which makes me your aunt, Aria." She holds the pendant out, letting me see it, but making no move to force it upon me. "And I intend to finish what my sister started—keeping you from those who would use you as a key to unlock the end of this world."
The ground beneath me seems to tilt. My mother had a sister? In all the fragments of memories she left behind, all the whispers of the past she wove into the Blood Memory—she never spoke of Eryndisa.
I take a breath, steadying myself. "If you're truly my aunt, why have I never heard of you? Why didn't you come for me after she died?"
Eryndisa exhales, and for a moment, the steel in her gaze softens—only slightly. "Because until yesterday, I had no way of knowing if you were alive." Her voice drops lower. "Your mother's final act was to hide you—not just from your father, but from everyone. Even me." She holds my gaze as she speaks. "But blood calls to blood, Aria. Your magic woke. That is how we found you."
I glance at Thorne. His expression hasn't changed. Suspicious. Tense. The dark veins beneath his skin are pulsing now, creeping further up his neck. The ritual had slowed the corruption, but it hadn't stopped it. We were out of time.
I turn back to Eryndisa. "The portal," I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Where does it lead?"
"To sanctuary." Eryndisa extends a hand. "To answers about who you truly are."
A pulse of warmth blooms against my collarbone—the pendant. It beats in sync with my own racing heart, its magic stirring. Warning or invitation—I can't tell which.
Behind us, a howl rises. Not close, but closer than it was.
"The Stalkers have picked up our trail again," I whisper.
"We need to decide now," Thorne mutters, his breath coming harder, his balance shifting slightly. I catch his elbow before he can stumble. "But remember what your mother said—trust your instincts."
Eryndisa watches, but she does not press. The robed figures behind her are utterly still, waiting, their faces unreadable. The portal pulses, its center a swirling void of ink and violet light.
I lift my chin. "You said the breach was my doing." My voice is sharp now, cutting. "That's not entirely true, is it? Someone else manipulated the tear. Someone helped shape it."
A flicker of something passes through Eryndisa's gaze. Not surprise. Appraisal. Like I'd just passed some invisible test.
"You're perceptive," she says. "Good. You'll need that quality in the days ahead."
Thorne doesn't look impressed. His muscles tense under my grip. "Answer the question."
Eryndisa's expression hardens. "We don't have time for this." Her head tilts slightly, her gaze shifting toward the far tree line. "Your father's hunters approach from the east. Covenant agents from the west. This sanctuary won't remain hidden much longer."
As if on cue, the ground trembles. The portal behind her flares, its edges flickering, growing less stable.
"Last chance, Aria," Eryndisa's voice hisses, desperation lacing her words. "Trust your blood... or trust a Huntsman already half-claimed by the enemy."
Thorne's grip tightens on my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like claws, his jaw locked in a silent fury. He doesn't speak, but the tension in his body screams louder than anything he could say.
The pendant at my throat burns with a fire that feels too real, too raw. The howls—relentless—grow louder, closer, scratching at the edges of my mind. The portal before us flickers, unstable, shrinking with each passing second, like the last breath of a dying star.
I glance from Thorne to Eryndisa, caught between two forces, each one more dangerous than the last. Behind us, the howls are almost upon us. Ahead, the portal is closing, slipping through my fingers like sand.
Everything—everything—hangs in the balance.
And in that heartbeat, I make my choice. But as I step forward, I don't know if I'm ready to live with the consequences, a shiver runs down my spine and I wonder; Will this decision will rip everything apart?