The skies above Nightveil wept flame.
Not rain, not storm—but tears of fire that fell from the Veil itself, falling like broken starlight. The Hollowfire had cracked more than stone. It had split the line between realms.
And something old had slipped through.
Nyra stood at the base of the ruined Heartforge, her blade still smoldering with the last breath of Hollowfire. Her skin glowed faintly, not just from flame—but from something seeded deeper. A twin sigil had bloomed across her collarbone, etched in fire and shadow.
She had not chosen the throne.
But the throne had chosen her.
Kael was not far.
He leaned against a shattered column, blood trickling down his temple, one knee barely holding him upright. The crown he once wore had melted into his skin, now forged into bone like an oath made flesh. The frostfire inside him hummed quietly—resentful, patient, coiled like a wolf ready to pounce.
"You feel it?" Nyra's voice cut the silence. Calm, but laced with fire.
Kael looked up slowly. "The Veil screaming? Yeah. Hard to miss."
Above them, the sky tore.
A jagged crack split across the firmament—like a mouth yawning wide, revealing something beneath. Pale light pulsed through the opening, too bright to be moonlight, too cold to be flame. It shimmered with the hue of prophecy and broken time.
And from that breach…
They came.
Figures cloaked in shadow-glass and silver flame. They didn't walk—they hovered, ancient and expressionless, with runes carved into the very marrow of their hollow forms.
The Echoborne.
The oldest guardians of the Veil. Long thought extinguished in the first war between witches and wolves. But now they moved again, stirred by the Hollowfire's scream.
Veila landed beside Nyra, her wings dim but steady. "They're not here to talk."
"No," Nyra murmured. "They're here to judge."
The Echoborne didn't speak with mouths. They didn't need to.
Their voices echoed through bone, bypassing flesh, striking straight into the soul.
"You broke the oath. You awakened the Throne. You split the world."
Kael stood now, his blade humming with the quiet fury of his bloodline. "Then say what you came to say. Pass your sentence."
The Echoborne responded not with words—but with visions.
Flashes of a world undone.
Nightveil in ash. The Whisper Court drowned in void. Selene's body shattered beside the Moonmirror. Wolves turned to ice. Witches burned to silence.
A single crown atop a mountain of ruin.
And at its feet—
Nyra.
Alone.
The vision snapped back. Nyra staggered, fury flashing in her eyes. "No," she said. "That's not the only path."
"It is the cost of imbalance," the Echoborne said. "Two seeds were planted. Only one may rise."
Veila moved to speak—but a sudden tremor silenced her.
Because behind the Echoborne… the Veil cracked again.
Not torn.
Shattered.
And through the breach came something worse.
Not shadow.
Not flame.
Void.
Living, breathing void that devoured sound and time. And within it—a figure walked. Not cloaked. Not disguised.
A man.
With Kael's eyes.
And Nyra's mark.
Veila fell to her knees. Varek gasped.
Kael's sword dropped from his hand.
Because the figure wore not one crown—but two. Fused.
And the world around him twisted, screaming.
Selene's voice reached from the depths of the Moonmirror, whispering like a curse:
"The Child of the Reversal… has come early."
Nyra's heart stopped.
Because the figure looked at her and smiled.
And her blood recognized him.
Not as a stranger.
But as something far worse.
As her son.
⸻
Ending
The child raised his hand.
The Veil tore fully open, swallowing the stars.
And behind him… came war.
To be continued.