Selene walked through the ashes, retracing her steps toward the camp.

  Her borrowed body felt wrong with every step, Aldric’s twisted ankle sending sharp pain up her leg, the burned flesh across his torso screaming with each breath. The living veil had adapted to his form perfectly, mimicking his dark green coat and leather gloves, even the scorched patches where flame had touched him.

  His beard scratched against her neck when she turned her head. His hands felt too heavy, fingers thicker than hers. She kept misjudging distances, reaching too far or not far enough.

  Bodies lay scattered in the floor. Researchers, engineers, guards, people reduced to shapes in the dying firelight. Some she might have recognized if she looked closely.

  A half-burned research note fluttered past, caught in a wind. She glimpsed equations in the margins, someone’s careful work, now meaningless. The acrid smell of burned paper mixed with charred flesh that would never heal.

  The craters marked her path.

  The first was a depression in the earth where she'd accelerated during the hunt. The ground had turned to glass at its edges, still faintly glowing. A broken lantern lay at its rim, oil still seeping into the ash, creating dark rainbows in the nebula's light.

  Selene’s hands trembled as she passed it. Her eyes lingered on the glassed earth for a fraction too long.

  The second was smaller, but grass lay flattened in a perfect corridor leading away from it. Reality struggling to remember what had torn through it. A low hum persisted, not quite sound, more like pressure against her eardrums.

  Somewhere behind her, a support beam groaned and collapsed. The sound echoed across the devastation.

  As she approached the third crater, the deepest one, where she had first launched herself, she heard it.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  The sound cut through everything else, through the dying crackle of embers, through the whisper of settling ash, through her own ragged breathing in Aldric’s lungs.

  The pocket watch lay at the crater’s rim, half-buried in ash. Its brass surface caught the Emberveil Nebula’s light, the etchings seeming to pulse with each tick.

  The memory struck. Eldric drawing the brass disk from his coat. “A pocket watch. I’ve been working on it for years. And now it’s yours.” The weight of it in her palm. The steady rhythm that said: I am here. I am constant.

  Selene stepped down into the crater, Aldric’s boots crunching on glass-like soil. She climbed the other side and knelt slowly, pain shooting through the twisted ankle. Her fingers, his fingers closed around the watch. They were clumsier than hers, and she nearly dropped it before finding a proper grip.

  The broken glass face reflected Aldric's features back at her. Black hair. Stern face. The face of the man she'd murdered.

  A sob caught in her throat, but what came out was deeper, older—Aldric's voice breaking with her grief.

  She tucked it carefully into his coat pocket, feeling its weight settle against.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  Small. Steady. Real.

  Selene stood and continued walking, following the path toward where she'd pushed Selis away. The nebula painted everything beautiful and indifferent to the suffering below. Gray snow of ash settled on Aldric's shoulders, in his black hair.

  She could smell blood ahead, caught on the wind. Beneath it, something else. The strange copper-and-lightning scent of divine essence. Her own blood, active in Selis’s veins.

  Please let her be alive. Please, Selene thought.

  The trail led her past collapsed tents, past overturned crates and scattered tools. A child’s wooden horse lay abandoned in the ash. One of the engineers must have been carving it for someone back home. Then she saw them, drag marks in the ash. Recent. Leading away from where Selis had initially fallen.

  The marks were uneven, desperate, someone pulling themselves forward with failing strength. A torn piece of silver-gray fabric snagged on a splinter marked the path unmistakably as hers.

  Selene followed them around a partially collapsed tent, past a support beam that had fallen at an angle, creating a small sheltered space beneath.

  There.

  Selis lay curled in the shelter of the fallen beam, her brown hair matted with blood and ash. Her coat was torn across the back, claw marks visible where Selene’s fingers had pierced through. One of her hands stretched toward a body, fingers still curled in the ash, as if she had been trying to reach him when consciousness fled.

  Blood tears had dried on her cheeks, crimson tracks running from her eyes to her mouth. But she was breathing. That shallow rise and fall continued, steady despite everything.

  And beside her—

  A body. Collapsed forward, frozen in death.

  Burned beyond recognition. Flesh charred black, features melted away until nothing human remained. The robes were ash and char, barely clinging to the body.

  But at its waist, somehow preserved, hung a glass sphere glowing with faint light.

  Corvan.

  The sight struck her immobile. She’d known—the smell of burned flesh had told her, but seeing it made it real.

  He must have been trying to move when the flames took him. His body had collapsed forward, one charred hand stretched outward—reaching for someone who wasn’t there. For Selis, perhaps. Even in his final moments, he’d been thinking of her.

  Dried blood tears stained his charred chest, Selis’s grief made permanent upon what remained of him. She’d crawled here after. Found him like this.

  Selene approached slowly and knelt beside them both. Her movements were awkward in this body—she kept forgetting how to make it move naturally, catching herself mid-gesture when her hands moved in patterns that were hers, not his.

  Selis’s eyes were closed, her face pale. More blood stained the ground beneath her, but less than there should be. The wounds were closing. Slowly, painfully, but closing.

  “At least I didn’t kill her,” Selene murmured.

  Then she saw it, a faint gleam near Corvan’s body. Metal corners catching the nebula’s light.

  His journal.

  Selene reached toward it with trembling hands. The leather was charred black at the edges, pages burned and brittle, but the metal corners had protected enough of it to survive. She lifted it carefully, afraid it might crumble to ash in her grip.

  Some of his writings would be lost. But not all.

  Selis would want this. Something of his to hold onto.

  She set it gently in the ash beside the researcher, then reached out to brush brown hair away from her face. Her hand shook. Aldric’s hand, but the trembling was all hers.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered in Aldric's voice.

  Selis didn’t wake. But beneath Selene’s fingers, a faint pulse continued its rhythm.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  The pocket watch counted seconds against her chest.

  Selene let her hand fall away. She sat back slowly, Aldric’s body protesting every movement. Then she simply let herself drop backward into the ash.

  She lay there beside them, beside Selis still breathing, beside Corvan who would never breathe again. The Emberveil Nebula painted everything in ghostly teal and gold above her.

  Somewhere in the distance, another timber fell with a muffled crash. The sound barely registered.

  Her eyes stared at nothing. Empty. The weight of everything she had experienced pressed her deeper into the ash, a fitting burial for what she’d become.

  The pocket watch ticked on.

  Around them, the ruined camp stretched endlessly into darkness, ash still falling like snow that would never stop.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Selene stared at the Emberveil Nebula above, too beautiful for what lay beneath.

  "The blood will show you the way."

  The sword’s words circled her mind like vultures. What way? She’d consumed Aldric’s blood and gained his memories, his knowledge, even his form. His equations for celestial motion surfaced unbidden, formulas she’d never learned, calculations of stellar drift. His daughter’s laughter. His wife’s cold hand as she died.

  None of it meant anything. None of it explained what she'd become.

  Eldric.

  The thought cut through everything else.

  Where was he? Somewhere in these ruins? Buried beneath scaffolding? Burned like—

  She couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't bear to imagine him like Corvan.

  Should look for him. Should search—

  But she couldn’t move.

  Aldric’s body was too heavy, too broken. The twisted ankle throbbed with every heartbeat. The burned flesh across her torso sent waves of agony with each shallow breath. Beneath the physical exhaustion lay something deeper, a hollowness so complete that even the thought of standing felt impossible.

  Too tired.

  The admission settled over her like the falling ash.

  Too tired to search. Too tired to hope. Too tired to be anything but this, a monster wearing a dead man’s skin.

  The smell of smoke and death hung thick in the air. Charred flesh. Burned canvas. The acrid bite of destruction that would never wash clean.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  The pocket watch against her chest. Steady. Constant. Indifferent to her despair.

  Minutes passed. Or hours. Time felt broken here, as meaningless as—

  Movement.

  Soft. Fabric shifting against ash.

  Selene's borrowed eyes tracked toward the sound.

  Selis’s fingers twitched. Her chest rose with a deeper breath, consciousness returning.

  Her eyes opened slowly.

  Blue irises unnaturally bright caught the nebula’s light with a clarity that shouldn’t exist. Those eyes focused. Found Selene lying in the ash beside her, an arm’s length away, close enough to touch, far enough to be strangers. Blood continued to spill from her eyes, slow and unceasing.

  They saw Aldric’s face, black hair, weathered features, stern expression.

  But there was no confusion in Selis’s gaze. No surprise.

  Just recognition.

  Selis lifted one hand slowly, testing whether her body would obey. She paused. Her fingers trembled, then found the burned journal beside her, the corners still warm beneath her fingertips.

  Corvan’s journal.

  All that remained of him.

  Her face didn’t change. Just her fingers, closing around it with infinite care, pulling it against her chest like armor.

  Selis stared at her, at the divine creature wearing a colleague’s skin, and something passed between them. Not words. Not even thoughts. Just the terrible understanding of two people who had lost everything in the same night and survived anyway.

  Selene tried to speak. Her lips, his lips, parted. “Selis, I—”She paused, not knowing quite what to say.

  Selis’s blue eyes shifted, finding Corvan’s burned corpse an arm’s reach away. Her face was hollow, as if something essential had been taken from it.

  Then her blood-streaked gaze returned to Selene.

  There was nothing to be said. No words to bring back what the fire had taken. No explanation that would change what they'd both become.

  They looked at each other across the small space between them. Across the infinite distance of grief and guilt and survival.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  The pocket watch continued its merciless count.

  Somewhere beyond the camp’s edge, so faint it might have been imagination, the ground trembled. Once, twice. As if something heavy moved in the distance.

  Neither of them reacted. Too exhausted to care what new horror might be approaching. Ash continued to fall, settling on them both like a burial shroud that would never be lifted.

  The sound came from the distance, faint at first, barely distinguishable from the wind.

  Hoofbeats.

  Selene’s eyes snapped toward the source. Beside her, Selis went rigid, her hand still resting on Corvan’s journal.

  The rhythm grew clearer. Multiple horses. Moving fast through the ruins.

  “Riders,” Selis whispered, her enhanced vision already tracking movement in the darkness beyond the camp’s edge.

  Selene pushed herself up slowly, Aldric’s body protesting every movement. Pain shot through the twisted ankle as she shifted her weight. She saw them now, silhouettes against the nebula’s glow. A dozen, maybe more. Armed.

  They moved in formation. Disciplined. Soldiers.

  Selis tried to sit up, wincing as her healing wounds pulled. Her blue eyes locked on the approaching riders, calculating. “Baron’s men,” she said.

  “They must have seen the fire,” Selene said quietly.

  The riders were spreading out now, beginning to circle the camp’s perimeter. One rode ahead of the others.

  Selis and Selene were defenseless, broken, surrounded by death.

  “What do we do?” Selene’s voice was steady despite everything. She looked down at herself, at Aldric’s hands, his burned coat, his form. She was a dead man walking. Selis’s eyes were too bright, with blood tears cascading down her face. They lay beside a charred corpse in the ruins of a camp destroyed by forces neither of them could explain.

  What story could they tell that wouldn't sound like madness?

  But they would be found. It was only a matter of time.

  The riders were closer now. She could hear voices calling out, sharp commands, clipped responses.

  Selene made her decision.

  She drew in a breath, Aldric’s lungs burning with the effort, and screamed.

  “Here! We’re here!”

  The sound tore through the silence. Aldric’s voice, deep and raw, carried across the devastation.

  Every rider turned toward them.

  Hoofbeats thundered closer. Shouts rang out. The lead rider spurred his horse forward, the others following in tight formation.

  Selis stared at her. “What are you—”

  “They would have found us anyway,” Selene said quietly. “Better get this over with.”

  The riders burst through the collapsed tents and scattered debris, their horses picking paths through the ash. Torches blazed to life, throwing wild shadows across the ruins.

  The lead rider pulled up short, his horse rearing slightly at the smell of death. He was a man with a pale scar running from temple to jaw, his hair shaved close on one side and long on the other. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. Fingers drummed once, twice, then went still.

  Dalen Varic. The Baron's shadow.

  His eyes swept across the scene, two figures in the ash, one burned corpse, blood everywhere, the devastation spreading endlessly outward. His expression darkened as he took it all in, the craters, the bodies, the sheer scale of destruction.

  When he spoke, his voice was cold and measured, edged with contempt.

  “What in the Baron’s name happened here?”

  His gaze lingered on Selene with open suspicion. Scholars. Of course scholars would be at the center of whatever madness had consumed this place. They always were, poking at things best left buried, unraveling forces they couldn’t begin to understand.

  Behind him, the soldiers fanned out, torches held high. Their faces were pale, eyes wide as they took in the devastation. One of them, a young man with a patchy beard, muttered something under his breath and made a small gesture.

  "Don't like this, cap'n," another soldier said, his voice tight. "Place feels... unnatural, it does."

  "Feels cursed," the young one added, his torch trembling slightly. "All them bodies, and the ground turned—"

  "Shut it!" Dalen snapped, though his hand never left his sword. His eyes remained fixed on Selene and Selis. "I asked a question."

  Selis met his eyes, her blue eyes unnaturally bright in the torchlight. Fresh blood tears traced down her cheeks as she spoke, her voice steady.

  "Shadows moved through the camp. Then fire came after."

  The soldiers exchanged glances. A few shifted uncomfortably in their saddles.

  “Shadows?” One of them, older, let out a short laugh that didn’t quite land. “That’s what you’re sayin’? Fuckin’ shadows did all this?”

  “Look around you,” Selis said quietly, a single blood tear rolling down her jaw. “Does this look like something ordinary men could do?”

  The laughter died. The soldier spat into the ash and looked away.

  Another soldier leaned forward slightly, his torch casting light across Selis’s face. “Cap’n… her eyes. You seein’ that? They’re…” He paused, searching for words. “Never seen eyes like that. All bright and… pretty, innit?”

  “Pretty won’t help her if she’s lyin’,” the older soldier muttered. One of the others frowned. “Is that blood drippin’ from her eyes? What in the…”

  Another made a nervous laugh. “Maybe she’s one of them witches from the stories. You know, the ones what seduce men and drain ’em dry?” He forced a grin. “Wouldn’t mind that way to go, eh lads?”

  The soldiers laughed. All of them except Dalen.

  The same soldier continued, the one who’d spoken about the curse. He leaned toward Dalen. “Cap’n… them reports. The ones you been lookin’ into. ’Bout the animals what got drained…”

  Dalen's fingers drummed against his sword pommel. Once. Twice. Still.

  His eyes narrowed, studying Selene more closely now. He took in the burned flesh visible through the tears in Aldric’s coat, the twisted ankle. Then his gaze shifted to Selis, blood-stained and wounded, her hand resting protectively on a charred journal.

  He dismounted and walked closer to one of the craters, crouching down. His fingers brushed the glassified edge, feeling its unnatural smoothness. The glass was still warm. He straightened slowly, noting how the craters formed a clear path.

  "You're saying something attacked this camp," Dalen said slowly.

  "Yes," Selis said.

  “And you two… survived?” Dalen said, disbelief tightening his features.

  “Yes.”

  “How convenient,” he said, then looked at his men. “Wouldn’t you say, you lot?”

  The soldiers glanced at one another, murmuring under their breath.

  Selis's expression didn't change, though another blood tear traced down her cheek. "We didn't ask to survive."

  The words hung in the air between them. A cold breeze swept through the camp, carrying the stench of burned flesh and ash into their lungs. Around them, the soldiers grew more restless. Horses stamped and snorted, sensing their riders’ unease. Torchlight threw dancing shadows across the burned floor, making the bodies seem to shift and move.

  “Cap’n,” a soldier with rotten teeth said, his voice strained. “We stayin’ here much longer? Don’t feel right, this place.”

  Dalen ignored him at first. His gaze moved past Selene and Selis to Corvan’s burned corpse. A long moment passed. Then he made his decision.

  "Get 'em on horses," he said curtly. "We're takin' them to the Baron's manor."

  “Sir?” The young soldier looked uncertain. “Should we… search the camp first? Look for other survivors?”

  “There ain’t no other survivors.” Dalen’s voice was flat, certain. “And whatever did this might still be close. We ain’t stayin’ to find out.”

  Two soldiers dismounted and moved toward Selene and Selis. Selene tried to stand on her own, but Aldric’s twisted ankle gave out. Strong hands caught her before she fell, hauling her upright.

  "Easy now, mate," the soldier muttered.

  As they helped her toward the horse, Selene found the pocket watch, making sure it was secure beneath Aldric’s coat.

  The soldier with rotten teeth, his hands nervous, helped Selis to her feet. She swayed slightly, clutching Corvan’s journal against her. As he guided her toward his horse, he leaned in, his voice low.

  "Pretty eyes you got there, miss. After all this is over, what d'you say we find ourselves a quiet spot, yeah? Just you an' me. Know how to help a lady... forget her troubles, I do."

  Selis gave no reaction. Her fingers pressed Corvan’s journal harder against her chest. She let herself be guided onto the horse, white-knuckled around the charred cover. As the horse shifted, fresh blood tears welled and fell, marking new paths down her face.

  Selene was lifted onto a horse behind one of the soldiers. The movement sent fresh waves of pain through Aldric’s body, burned flesh screaming, the twisted ankle throbbing.

  Selis was settled behind her soldier, her brown hair catching the torchlight. She looked back once toward Corvan’s body, a final, silent farewell.

  Then the horses turned, and the camp fell away behind them.

  Dalen led the way. His gaze lingered on the scarred earth as they rode, on the glassed craters fading into darkness behind them. He said nothing, his jaw set, attention fixed forward.

  Around him, the soldiers rode in tight formation, torches held high against the darkness. No one spoke. The only sounds were hoofbeats and the creak of leather, the occasional nervous snort from a horse.

  Behind them, the main excavation site of Veilmouth lay silent and empty, a graveyard of ash and ruin. Beyond it rose the Veilspine Range, dark peaks crowned with mist that caught the Emberveil Nebula’s light, painting the mountains in ghostly hues.

  In the distance, the Baron’s manor waited. Its clock tower rose dark against the stars, marking time that felt increasingly meaningless in a world that had stopped making sense.

  Would you stick around for upcoming volumes?