Versailles – Hall of the Veil – 3:37 AM
Claire remained kneeling among the shards. The note still trembled between her fingers, as if it had been written in blood and heat. The phrase repeated in her mind — "The Rose was never whole. It is choice. It always was."
The reliquary in her pocket began to burn. Not physically. It was deeper. A memory was trying to break through.
She closed her eyes.
And then she saw.
---
Paris – Year 1891
She was not Claire.
Her name was Élise Vaillant.
Young, amber eyes, hands stained with ink and charcoal. Sitting on the stone floor of a secret library, before the first Veil ever opened by human hands.
Armand was beside her. Younger. Frightened. Determined.
— "Do you understand what this does?" he asked.
— "Yes. But I don't understand why you want to cross it."
— "Because the truth is on the other side. And the truth... sets us free."
She tried to stop him. But it was too late. He crossed.
And she stayed.
The Veil burned everything that couldn't follow. Memories. Names. Oaths.
---
Versailles – Present
Claire gasped, like someone who had just surfaced from underwater.
Solène was beside her.
— "You were motionless for three minutes. The reliquary glowed."
Claire held the object. Now cold.
— "I was someone else. I saw it. I let Armand go. I left him behind."
Solène touched her shoulder.
— "Then maybe he never came back whole."
---
Paris – Diplomatic Command – 4:12 AM
The French Minister of Foreign Affairs read the telegram with unwavering eyes:
"Reiner survived. Veil unstable. Magical activity confirmed. Key divided."
He extinguished his cigarette and pressed a red button on the side of his desk.
A voice answered through the intercom:
— "Yes, sir."
— "Activate Protocol Dreyfus. Top classification. Prepare the guard for urban magical engagement. And call the British."
— "Understood, sir."
The minister stared out the window.
Versailles was quiet in the distance.
But he could feel it.
Paris was about to split open.