The night bled heavy through the ruined gardens. Alina’s knees sank into damp earth, the cold seeping through her skirts as her breath stuttered. The twin marks on her chest seared, one steady as iron, the other wild as fire, their pulses hammering against each other until her whole body trembled with the strain.
Kael knelt at her side first, his hand hovering as if afraid to touch. “Breathe. Anchor yourself, Alina—don’t let it drag you under.”
“Anchor her?” Riven’s voice cut sharper than the night air. He stalked closer, his eyes fever-bright. “Look at her, Kael. The Veil isn’t crushing her—it’s waking in her. You can’t bind what was never meant to be bound.”
Alina pressed her palm flat to the ground, the soil vibrating faintly under her fingers. Was it her trembling, or the Veil spill
