Liora awoke to the sound of scratching—faint, rhythmic, and impossibly near.
For a moment, she lay still, eyes wide in the dark of her attic room, listening. The noise was coming from the wall behind her bed. Not from mice or tree branches—this was deliberate. Controlled. Like something trying to get her attention.
She slowly sat up, clutching the pendant Jaeyun had pressed into her hand the night before. It had grown warm again, like it sensed something nearby.
The scratching stopped.
She crossed the room, heart pounding, and reached for the small wooden panel where the attic met the roof beams. It was slightly ajar. Carefully, she pried it open.
Inside, tucked behind a beam, lay an old tin box covered in dust.
Liora pulled it free and opened it. Inside were letters—faded, yellowed with time—and a velvet pouch. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the first letter. The handwriting was familiar.
Her mother's.
> My dearest Liora,
If you're reading this, then the veil has begun to thin, and the blood within you has started to stir. You are more than they ever told you. More than I could protect you from. This world is older than its stories. And you… you are part of something it has forgotten to fear.
Trust no one blindly—not even those who claim to protect you. Especially them.
Liora's vision blurred. Her mother had known. She'd hidden this. Prepared for this.
She reached for the pouch and untied the drawstring. Inside was a ring. Simple, but etched with runes that shimmered faintly in the dark. The moment her fingers brushed the metal, pain lanced through her head—sharp, blinding.
She collapsed to the floor.
---
She was not in her room anymore.
She stood in a forest—ancient, alive, whispering. Trees taller than towers surrounded her, and the ground pulsed beneath her feet. The air was thick with the scent of moss and magic. Shadows moved between the trunks.
In the distance, she saw a girl—young, with long silver hair and eyes like hers—kneeling before a circle of stone.
And standing behind her… was Jaeyun.
But he looked different. His clothes were older, worn like something from another century. His eyes were colder. Harder.
The silver-haired girl turned, and for a moment, Liora felt the world tilt.
It was her.
Herself.
Or someone who looked exactly like her.
She tried to speak, but her voice vanished in the wind. The scene shattered like glass, and she was ripped back to the present—back to her room, curled on the floor, gasping.
The ring still burned against her skin.
Someone knocked at her door.
"Liora," came Jaeyun's voice, low and urgent. "Open the door. Now."
She stared at it, eyes wide. Her hands were still shaking. "You were there," she whispered.
"What?" he asked from the other side.
"In the vision," she said louder, rising unsteadily to her feet. "I saw… you were there with her. With me. A different me. From another time."
Silence.
Then Jaeyun's voice, softer. "Then you're beginning to remember."
She opened the door.
And the truth between them began to unfold.
Jaeyun stepped into the attic room without waiting for permission. He closed the door behind him with a quiet click, his eyes instantly scanning the space. When his gaze landed on the open tin box, the faded letters, and the glowing ring in Liora's palm, his expression darkened.
"You weren't supposed to find that yet," he said.
Liora looked up sharply. "You knew about it?"
He nodded once, reluctantly. "Your mother told me where she hid it. But she made me swear I wouldn't lead you to it until your blood began to awaken on its own."
"Well, it's awake now," Liora said, her voice tight with anger and confusion. "I touched this ring, and I saw… something. Someone. She looked like me."
"That wasn't just a vision," Jaeyun said. He crossed to her slowly, like he was approaching a wounded creature. "That was a memory."
"A memory?" she echoed. "But it wasn't mine."
"No," he said, "it belonged to the first of your line."
Liora blinked, her heart racing. "The girl in the forest…"
"She was called Eliara. The first witch marked by moonlight," Jaeyun explained. "Your ancestor. And your blood remembers her. Her power. Her pain."
He glanced at the ring in her hand. "And that… is her oath ring. It binds your blood to the Moon Veil. The source of your family's power. And the reason they're hunting you now."
"Who is 'they'?" Liora asked, frustration building in her voice. "You keep talking in riddles."
Jaeyun's jaw tightened. He walked to the small window and stared out at the fog creeping over the rooftops. "There are factions within the vampire bloodlines that serve the Old Order. Beings that predate me, even. They see the blood of witches as a threat. Especially yours."
"And what about you?" she asked.
He turned, slowly. "I was once bound to them. A knight of the Shadow Court. Until I met Eliara. Until I…" He trailed off.
Liora's breath caught. "Until you loved her."
Silence.
Jaeyun looked away. "It ended in fire. And betrayal. She died protecting the veil. And I… became what you see now. A creature cursed with immortality, tasked with guarding a bloodline that might one day awaken her gift again."
He stepped closer. "That blood now runs in you, Liora. And the veil is weakening."
Liora stared down at the ring in her hand. The runes were no longer glowing—but she could still feel its pull. As if a door had opened inside her, and something old was watching through it.
"I don't know how to be what she was," she whispered.
"You don't have to be her," Jaeyun said. "But you will have to choose. To awaken your full power… or let the veil fall, and let them take you."
Liora looked up. "And if I choose power?"
His eyes darkened. "Then everything will change. For you. For this city. For me."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, low and ominous.
And somewhere, far below the city—in the catacombs where the dead whispered—something stirred.
That night, sleep was a stranger.
Liora sat by her window, the ring on a chain around her neck, still warm from her skin. Outside, the city slept beneath a sky heavy with clouds, hiding the blue moon's light. But she could feel it, pulsing in the dark—like something vast and ancient breathing just beneath the surface of the world.
Jaeyun had left without another word, disappearing into the mist like before. He said he needed to "prepare," but wouldn't say for what. And that silence left her with too many questions.
The journal, the ring, the memory of Eliara… all of it tugged at her like threads from a tapestry unraveling too fast.
She picked up one of the old letters from the box. It was written in a script she hadn't noticed before—flowing, angular, edged with power. As she traced her finger across the ink, the symbols shimmered and shifted, slowly translating into something she could understand.
> To awaken the Veilborn gift, the blood must be offered willingly. Under moonlight. In silence. In solitude. The veil accepts no witness.
She reread the line again and again.
What did it mean?
The pendant around her neck flared with heat.
She gasped and stumbled to her feet—only to see a vision flash behind her eyes: a lone chapel in the woods, long abandoned, overgrown with vines. A stone altar bathed in blue light.
She knew that place. She'd seen it in her dreams.
The veil is calling.
---
By dawn, she was moving through the outskirts of the city, cloak drawn tightly around her, navigating through the frost-kissed forest paths beyond Kraków's walls. The vision had shown her the way—clearer than any map ever could.
Every step deeper into the woods made the world quieter. Birds no longer sang. Leaves didn't rustle. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
At last, she saw it: the chapel.
Or what remained of it.
The roof had long since collapsed, and ivy choked the walls. But the altar still stood, a slab of stone with strange moon runes carved into its sides. Blue light shimmered faintly above it, barely visible, like mist caught in sunlight.
Liora stepped forward.
As soon as her hand brushed the altar, the ground trembled.
The light around her flared, and her vision blurred again—this time not with pain, but with memory.
---
She stood once more in the body of someone else—Eliara, perhaps. But this time, the forest was alive with light and music. The chapel stood tall, new and gleaming. People in silver robes gathered around the altar, chanting in an ancient tongue.
And beside her stood Jaeyun—dressed in armor, his hair tied back, his eyes softer than she'd ever seen them.
He leaned close and whispered, "You don't have to do this. Let me carry the burden for you."
And she, this other self, had replied, "You cannot carry what was born in me. The veil chose me. As it will choose again."
The vision ended.
---
Liora gasped as her knees hit the ground in front of the ruined altar.
Her blood was pounding, fire in her veins.
She knew now what the veil wanted.
It wasn't just a choice—it was a test. A rite.
And she had only begun to unlock what slept inside her.
From the shadows at the tree line, unseen eyes watched.
One of them narrowed—a cruel smile curling over ageless lips.
"She's awakening," the figure whispered. "Then the hunt begins."