The snow had fallen in silence overnight — thick, untouched, the kind that made the world seem gentler than it truly was. Arielle Veylan stood at the edge of the cliff behind her village, cloak wrapped tight, eyes fixed on the valley below. The mountains slept. The wind whispered.
But something had shifted.
Her fingers curled around the pendant at her throat — a shard of obsidian, warm as a heartbeat. She never took it off. Her mother had fastened it there the night she died, with hands shaking and blood drying on her lips.
"Never show them," she'd whispered. "Never let the stars see you."
That was twelve years ago.
Arielle had obeyed — mostly. She kept her power hidden, her mind sharper than any blade. She traded healing herbs in the village, mapped the land in secret, listened more than she spoke. She knew everyone's rhythms — who woke early, who lied, who stole, who feared what. Knowledge was safety. Quiet was safety.
But this morning, the air was different. Too still. Too... expectant.
A dark bird wheeled above, then dove south — toward the old ruins, the ones no one dared visit. The starborn used to live there, before they were burned.
Arielle didn't flinch.
From the woods behind her, footsteps crunched in the snow.
"You always come up here before something breaks," said a voice — Tamsin, her cousin, the only one she trusted. "What did you dream?"
Arielle turned slowly. Her gray eyes were calm, but beneath them, something ancient stirred.
"Fire," she said. "And a man who bled shadow."
Tamsin paled. "You think it's the Veilfall?"
Arielle's hand closed over the pendant again.
"I think the stars are moving," she said. "And I don't think we're ready."
Far below them, something shimmered — like heat in the snow. A pulse. A flicker.
Arielle narrowed her eyes.
A star had fallen. And it was close.