Light folds over itself as we fall. Not bright, not blinding—just endless, like sinking through the glow beneath closed eyelids. I feel William’s hand wrapped around mine, fingers locked as though he’s anchoring me to something solid, but there’s no solid left. The world has come undone.
The Vein isn’t a place so much as the memory of one. Every direction dissolves into gold threaded with shadow, currents twisting in slow, deliberate motion. Souls pass through the light like drifting embers—faces that look familiar for a breath and then disappear before I recognize anyone. The energy is warm against my skin, pulsing in time with my heartbeat, as if the Vein is studying me, tasting me, deciding whether I belong.
William pulls me closer, an instinctive shield even though there’s nothing he
