They traveled in silence at first.
The trees of Asterwall faded behind them, replaced by wilder woods, untouched and ancient. The wind carried unfamiliar scents — damp moss, iron-rich soil, something sharp beneath it all.
Karl had never walked this far from home.
And yet… it didn't feel foreign.
It felt like something inside him had just caught up.
Liraen moved like a shadow ahead of him, her cloak trailing low, her hawk circling above without a sound. She hadn't said a word since leaving the village.
Karl didn't mind.
His thoughts were loud enough.
"Why me?"
"What even is the Veil?"
"Am I supposed to control this thing… or is it controlling me?"
The path twisted between rocks and thick trunks, opening suddenly into a high ridge. From there, Karl saw it.
A thin ribbon of road carved into the valley ahead — stretching into distant mountains.
The Veilroad.
"We camp near the outpost tonight," Liraen finally said, not turning.
"You'll see it before dusk."
"What's it like?"
She didn't answer immediately. Then:
"It's the line between the quiet world… and the one that's waking up."
That night, Karl dreamed.
He stood in the middle of a frozen forest, breath curling like smoke. In the shadows, something moved — paws pressing into snow, quiet as wind.
Eyes blinked open.
Not human.
Not hostile.
Just… watching.
"Raiven."
The name came unspoken, and yet it echoed.
The wolf-creature stepped forward—and behind it, barely visible through the trees… wings. Black, scaled, and massive.
Karl woke with a jolt.
Liraen was already up, staring at him from the edge of camp.
"You called a name in your sleep," she said calmly.
"Do you know whose it was?"
He didn't answer.
Because somewhere deep inside, the Veil pulsed… and the wolf answered.