Tyla’s POV
The world does not end.
That surprises everyone.
After the anchors are established—after the Veil learns how to rest—people wait for catastrophe the way they always have. For backlash. For punishment. For the universe to demand repayment for a balance that didn’t involve blood.
It doesn’t.
Instead, things become… uneven.
Some days are quiet enough to feel suspicious. Other days are loud with argument, grief, learning. The realm breathes irregularly, like a body recovering from a long illness. Nothing about it is graceful.
But it’s real.
I walk the palace grounds at dawn, bare feet on cold stone, feeling the threads of connection stretch and relax beneath the world’s skin. The Veil is present—not hovering over everything, not threaded through every choice—but accessible.
