The war camp did not sleep.

  Torches burned through the night like wavering constellations scattered across the valley, each flame reflecting the collective unease that lingered after the council meeting. Word had spread swiftly:

  The veil would be dispelled at dawn.

  By the Vatican.

  By the masked man called Zero.

  Even without knowing the intricacies, soldiers could sense that something invisible was shifting—something old, something sacred, something dangerous.

  Seraphine walked through the camp in silence, her cloak drawn tight around her. Midnight dew clung to her lashes, but her thoughts were elsewhere—fixed on Zero’s calm arrogance, the Vatican’s insistence, and the three illusionary sketches that had circulated through the Houses for years.

  Three Shadowborn, she thought.

  Three false faces for one truth.

  She could still feel Lucien’s confusion beside her during the meeting—his quiet torment trying to reconcile the Vatican’s “records” with the monster he fought at the canyon. She could feel Elric’s calculating stare from across the table. She could feel her father’s protectiveness like a shield at her back.

  And she could feel Zero.

  Not visually—he hid well behind mask and uniform.

  But his presence… that was unmistakable.

  Cold, steady, and deeply patient.

  The kind of patience only monsters or saints possessed.

  Theoren stood at the central table, both hands pressed against the map, eyes tracing the marked lines where the veil touched the land. Mereth stood beside him, her dark robes trailing like shadows across the floor, her face cold and unreadable as she reviewed the Vatican’s proposed formation.

  Elric entered with a report in hand.

  “Zero’s clerics have set their anchors at the veil’s outermost edges,” Elric announced. “Ritual preparations will be complete within two hours.”

  Mereth’s fingers paused over the parchment.

  Her voice was soft, but carried like frost.

  “Too efficient.”

  Theoren exhaled through his nose. “Which only confirms they planned this far before the meeting.”

  Elric nodded. “They brought the artifacts for veil-dispelling without even knowing if we’d agree.”

  “Correction,” Mereth replied.

  “They assumed.”

  That word sat heavily between them.

  Theoren straightened. “What of the Houses? Any objections?”

  “None voiced,” Elric answered. “But everyone is on edge. Kazane ordered his men to perform poison and curse wards on all units. The Southern Legion commanders are reviewing miasma-resistance protocols. The West reinforced their barrier shields.”

  Mereth allowed herself a thin, proud smile.

  “Good. Fear makes people careful.”

  Then she added:

  “But it also makes them… predictable.”

  When Seraphine stepped into the pavilion, all three turned toward her.

  She bowed slightly.

  “I apologize for the delay. Father, Lord Elric, Lady Mereth.”

  Theoren’s stern face softened. “You needed time. Understandable.”

  Elric offered her a fresh report. “Zero and the Vatican generals are assembling at the veil’s edge.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Seraphine took the parchment but didn’t read it yet.

  Her mind was elsewhere.

  Still replaying Zero’s expression—well, the slight shift in his mask that passed for a smirk—as he refused to share Vatican intelligence at the meeting.

  “Lady Mereth,” she said quietly, “do you think they truly intend to dispel the veil? Or is there another motive?”

  Mereth met Seraphine gaze steadily.

  “The Vatican never reveals their motives. Not to allies. Not to kings. Not to gods.” She paused. “But there is a reason they want control of the veil ritual. Something they haven’t said.”

  “And will not say,” Elric added.

  Theoren crossed his arms. “Regardless, their clerics will act at dawn. Our duty is to be prepared for the aftermath—whatever it may be.”

  Seraphine lowered her eyes to the map.

  Her hand drifted across the area marked boundary of the veil.

  She could feel the faint tremor of old magic, as though the map itself still remembered the truth.

  “I don’t think the veil was created to protect us,” she murmured.

  “I think it was created to contain something.”

  Theoren and Mereth exchanged a glance—but neither contradicted her.

  Dawn crept slowly across the eastern horizon, brushing the valley with a pale gold light. The veil shimmered like a vertical ocean of distortion, trembling with colors that defied natural law.

  Zero stood at its center, robes fluttering slightly in the cold morning air. His mask reflected the light like polished bone.

  Behind him, the three Vatican generals stood in eerily perfect silence.

  Behind them, dozens of clerics arranged sigils, relics, and luminous anchors in precise geometric formations.

  Lucien and Sarville approached from the southern ridge.

  Lucien’s jaw tightened.

  “Every instinct I have is telling me this is wrong.”

  Sarville nodded.

  “It feels like we’re opening a door… without knowing what’s on the other side.”

  Lucien exhaled slowly.

  “We encounter him, the Shadowborn only once. Albeit it was a short and one sided encounter. One moment it was there—and the next, the world… shifted.”

  A pause.

  “I felt it then that his presence of power wasn’t just evil. It was ancient.”

  Sarville frowned. “Older than the veil?”

  “Felt older than that.”

  “And whatever is kept contained beyond the veil,” Lucien added quietly, “gave me that same feeling.”

  They both stared at Zero’s ritual circle.

  Sarville sighed.

  “Great. So we’re letting the Vatican mess with a cosmic lock they don’t even understand.”

  Lucien shook his head.

  “No, Sarville. They understand it.”

  A cold wind swept through them as the sigils ignited.

  “They understand it too well.”

  The ground trembled lightly as the final anchor was placed.

  Zero raised his hand, signaling silence.

  All activity halted instantly.

  His voice, when it rang out, was steady and resonant, amplified by a spell woven into his mask.

  “Warriors of the four Great Houses,” he began, “and defenders of the mortal realm.”

  Elric, Theoren, Mereth, Kazane, and representatives from the East, West, North and South stood gathered at a safe distance.

  Zero continued:

  “The veil was created long before our histories could record—woven by powers that no longer walk this world. Its stability is not absolute. Its composition is not pure. And its purpose…”

  He paused.

  “…is not benign.”

  A ripple of unease moved through the gathered forces.

  “The Vatican will dispel it.”

  Kazane’s voice cut through the air.

  “And if something emerges?”

  Zero inclined his head.

  “Then we shall handle it.”

  Mereth narrowed her eyes.

  “And if nothing emerges?”

  Zero’s tone shifted—still calm, but layered with something unreadable.

  “Then the truth becomes clear.”

  At Zero’s signal, the clerics pressed their palms to the ground.

  A vast circle of light spread outward, climbing like a wall of inverted dawn. Ancient runes flared one by one, each igniting the next, creating a chain-reaction of holy resonance that shook the air.

  The veil rippled—once, twice—

  Then roared.

  A shockwave of dark energy pulsed outward, thick enough to taste, metallic and cold, brushing over the skin like a whisper of something that had been trapped too long.

  Several soldiers staggered.

  Theoren shouted over the rising hum:

  “Shields up!”

  Mereth raised her greatsword, erecting a barrier in front of the Covenus lines.

  Kazane’s mages followed suit.

  Lucien and Sarville steadied the front ranks while Elric stood unmoved, unwavering.

  The veil twisted violently, colors writhing like a wounded beast.

  Zero stood unmoved in the center of the storm.

  And Seraphine felt her heart stop.

  Because for the briefest moment—

  just a sliver of a heartbeat—

  she saw a figure behind the veil.

  Tall.

  Dark.

  Four wings unfurled.

  The moment vanished as the veil convulsed again.

  But she saw it.

  She knew she saw it.

  As the surge intensified, Mereth leaned slightly toward Theoren.

  “Whatever is inside,” she said quietly, “we have less than a minute before it notices us.”

  Theoren’s grip tightened on his sword.

  “I’m more concerned about who else already knows it’s there.”

  They both looked at Zero.

  The masked commander lifted his hand and shouted the final command:

  “Break the veil!”

  Light and shadow collided.

  The valley shook.

  The veil screamed.

  And with a sound like cracking glass—

  —the ancient barrier shattered.