The valley’s silence was a lie, a thin veneer over the trembling pulse of the Veil, still fragile after the core’s destruction. The mark on my chest throbbed, a faint but persistent echo of her—my shadow, my twin—weakened but not defeated, her presence a cold whisper in my blood.
The dagger hung at my hip, its symbols dark, its hum silenced, but I felt its weight like a promise of battles yet to come. The bond with Lucian burned—his heartbeat a steady drum, my resolve a flickering flame, our shared defiance a shield against the truths I’d uncovered in the Between: I wasn’t just pack, wasn’t just Angel. I was the Veil’s lock, its key, forged in a ritual I didn’t remember, tied to a city that called me home.
We trudged through the muddy pass, the storm’s remnants dripping from jagged clif
