The moment they spoke the name—Unseen—something ancient answered.
The veil screamed.
Not in pain. In recognition.
It began to peel away in strips of light and darkness, unraveling like skin shedding from something far older, far more alive. Lyra and Raven stood in the center, the bond between them no longer just a tether—but a force. A heartbeat. A weapon.
The crowned figure of the Hollow stepped back, folding into the flickering realm like a shadow melting into dusk. Its voice echoed one last time: "Now you must bleed what you swore. There is no bond without sacrifice."
And the world shifted.
Suddenly, they were no longer in the Hollow.
They stood at the edge of the human realm—just outside the border of the Witches' Forest. But nothing was right. The sky was black and gold, swirling with runes that hadn't been written in a thousand years. Trees bled light. The air carried whispers. The veil had split—and the fracture had left scars.
"Something's crossed over," Raven said.
"No," Lyra whispered. "Many things have."
They didn't have time to speak more before they were attacked.
The ground cracked open, vomiting creatures stitched from multiple realms—skin that didn't match, eyes that glowed with stolen magic. Chimera-beasts that screamed in languages neither could name.
Lyra raised her palm. Fire and frost coiled together, spiraling into spears. Raven moved with her—his shadows rising like armor, fangs bared, wings stretching wide behind his back.
They didn't speak. They danced.
Side by side, fire and night, blood and bond.
But even after the last monster fell, Lyra collapsed to her knees. "My magic's... draining faster than before."
Raven knelt beside her, brushing sweat from her temple. "The fracture's feeding off us. We're anchors now. The longer we stay on this side, the more it'll eat."
"And we can't go back," she said. "Not yet. Not without sealing this breach."
He pulled something from his coat. A map—drawn in blood. "There's one place that might hold. One place untouched by the gods."
"The Ruined Temple?" she asked, dread thick in her throat.
He nodded. "It's the last place the original bondbearers went. And where they vanished."
They moved quickly, cloaking their presence, drawing on scraps of magic. Along the way, they saw the consequences of the veil's unraveling—people half-possessed, villages where time looped endlessly, magic twisting into madness.
They saved who they could. Killed what they must. But the air was getting heavier.
As they approached the edge of the temple ruins, Lyra felt something tighten in her chest.
A pull.
"Do you hear that?" she asked.
Raven stopped. Listened.
A hum. Low. Rhythmic. Like a lullaby sung by the dead.
"It's the relic again," he said. "Calling us."
"No," Lyra corrected, heart hammering. "It's calling me."
As they stepped into the heart of the temple, the floor lit up with runes—and the ghosts of former bondbearers appeared in a circle, heads bowed, weapons shattered at their feet.
One ghost raised her eyes—eyes exactly like Lyra's.
"You are the last, my blood," she said.
"Who are you?" Lyra choked.
"The first who defied the gods," the ghost replied. "And now, you must finish what we could not."
"They told us the temple was cursed," Raven murmured.
"It wasn't cursed," the ghost said. "It was sealed. Sealed to keep the truth from spilling through."
Raven turned slowly. Behind them, something stirred. A gate. A door to the fractured heart of the veil itself. It pulsed like a dying star.
"It's waiting," he whispered.
Lyra turned to him. "So are we."
But before they could move, the ghost raised her hand.
"There is a price," she said. "To enter the gate, one of you must surrender what you love most."
Raven's hand tightened around Lyra's.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
The ghost smiled, and it wasn't kind. "You'll know when the moment comes. The veil always demands balance."
The floor beneath them cracked.
A choice would come.
And neither would escape it unchanged.
As the gate opened, Lyra and Raven stepped forward, together.
Unaware of the blade that had already been drawn... waiting on the other side.