Darrian's POV
----
The light behind me dimmed as I stepped forward into the second veil.
Unlike the first veil, this place was not fire or chaos.
It was quiet.
Still.
But not in the way that promised peace. The silence here was suffocating, like a held breath stretched over centuries. No whispers. No wind. Not even the echo of my footsteps against the smooth, obsidian ground.
I wasn't sure if I was walking on stone or air or something far more ancient. The sky above me was black—no stars, no moon—just an endless stretch of nothingness. The kind of emptiness that swallowed hope whole.
But I kept walking.
Because she was here.
Somewhere.
Heather.
The mate I had nearly lost forever. The woman who had given everything to protect a pack that barely knew her. The Luna I didn't deserve but would fight every hell to have back.
The first veil had shown me her suffering—her past. Her mother's death. Marcus's cruelty. The cage she had lived in, disguised as a pack.
It broke me.
Watching her cry out for help no one gave. Watching her run, only to be dragged back. And worst of all—seeing the moment her wolf fell silent. Seeing the light in her eyes extinguished.
But she kept going.
Even when no one saved her, she fought.
And now it was my turn.
A hum pulsed through the air. Faint at first, like a drumbeat beneath the skin of the world. It grew stronger with every step, resonating in my bones. A rhythm. A warning.
I wasn't alone anymore.
Shapes formed in the distance. Shadowy figures cloaked in smoke, eyeless, shifting with unnatural grace. They didn't attack. Not yet. They simply watched. Judged.
Guardians of the second veil.
Testing me.
One stepped forward, its form slightly more defined than the others. A tall, skeletal creature, humanoid but not human, its voice echoing in my mind rather than my ears.
"Why do you come?"
"To bring her back," I answered without hesitation.
"You failed her."
"I did."
"You doubted her. Avoided her. Watched her suffer and turned away."
My jaw clenched. "Yes."
"You don't deserve her."
"I know."
The creature tilted its head. Its body pulsed with dim, red light.
"Then why do you fight for her now?"
I stepped closer, letting the fire in my chest speak for me.
"Because I love her. Because she's mine. Because I should've fought for her sooner, and I'll never stop fighting again."
The shadows whispered among themselves like rustling leaves in a graveyard.
Then the figure raised a hand.
"You may pass. But only if you survive."
Survive what?
The ground cracked beneath me.
And the darkness came alive.
They poured from the nothingness like ink spilled in water. My own fears. My own regrets. Visions. Heather turning from me, eyes hollow, whispering, "You were too late." Mikaela's smug smile. Marcus holding Heather's dying body. The pack burned. My throne shattered.
Each image drove into me like a blade, carving doubt from the inside.
I dropped to one knee, breath stolen from my lungs. But I didn't cry out. Didn't flinch.
Because none of that was real.
Heather had taught me what pain was. And she had taught me how to endure it.
I stood.
The shadows recoiled.
The veil shifted.
And I stepped forward into the heart of the storm.
I didn't know how long I walked.
Time twisted here. Seconds felt like hours. Days like moments. The air grew colder, denser, as if I was descending deeper into something that wasn't meant for the living.
And then—
I heard her.
Not her voice. Not words.
Her presence.
A light in the dark.
Flickering.
Fading.
I ran.
Faster than I'd ever moved before.
Her scent hit me like lightning—roses, rain, and something uniquely her. I followed it through the darkness until the world around me began to take shape.
Not mist.
Not fire.
A forest.
Twisted and dead.
Blackened trees reached like claws. The ground was brittle with ash.
And there she was.
Heather.
Curled beneath the roots of a dying tree, her arms wrapped around her knees, her head bowed. Her hair hung like ink across her pale face.
She didn't see me.
Didn't hear me.
I tried to run to her—grab her, pull her into my arms—but my hands passed through her like smoke.
"No…" I growled, frustration boiling in my blood.
The veil wasn't done.
It wasn't enough to watch her suffer.
Now I had to earn her again.
She raised her head, eyes wide with terror.
And Marcus stepped from the trees.
Not the memory version. Not a shadow.
A construct of the veil, but real enough to hurt.
He grabbed her by the throat, slamming her against the tree.
I roared.
The sky cracked above me, thunder rumbling through the forest.
But I still couldn't touch her. Couldn't help.
Heather gasped, clawing at his arm.
"Fight," I whispered. "Come on, Heather. Fight him."
And she did.
Her wolf stirred behind her eyes—blue fire burning like starlight.
She bit Marcus, drawing blood.
He snarled, releasing her, and she dropped to the ground, gasping.
She looked around.
Then straight at me.
Her eyes widened. "Darrian?"
She could see me.
For just a moment.
"Heather!" I slammed against the invisible barrier between us. "I'm here! I'm coming for you!"
But Marcus grabbed her again, dragging her into the trees.
Her scream echoed through the forest—and through my soul.
And the path forward opened.
I didn't hesitate.
I ran after them.