She wakes to silence that isn't silent.
A low hum presses against her skull, steady as a heartbeat that doesn't belong to her. The air tastes metallic, heavy with heat and static.
When she opens her eyes, red light floods them. The walls around her move—slowly, rhythmically—like lungs drawing shallow breaths. Every surface glistens, alive, pulsing with veins that shimmer and fade.
Mira tries to stand. The floor bends beneath her, soft but resisting, as if the ground itself remembers something painful. She gasps; her breath comes out as mist, and the mist doesn't drift away. It clings to her.
Whispers follow.
First one, then a dozen.
Her name—no, Kael's name—spoken over and over in voices she half-recognizes.
Kael… Kael… find him…
She spins, searching for the source, but the sound moves with her. It's inside her head. She presses her palms to her ears until her nails bite skin.
"Stop," she says. "Stop talking."
The whisper obeys for a moment. Then it laughs—a thousand tones blending into one.
Images flash. A burned field. A star collapsing. Kael's silhouette turning away.
Her memories? Or the Vein's?
She forces herself to breathe. Focus.
There's no up or down here, no horizon. Just endless red stretching until the light fades into black. She starts walking anyway.
Each step makes the ground ripple, and within those ripples, she sees faces. Human, broken, flickering like reflections in disturbed water. Their eyes follow her.
"Who are you?" she asks.
No answer. Only motion—faces dissolving, replaced by new ones.
She keeps walking until the world shivers. The walls open, revealing suspended shards of mirror-light floating in mid-air. Each mirror shows a fragment of reality above: forests under crimson skies, rivers running backwards, Kael standing amid ruins with fire behind his eyes.
She reaches for him. The mirror bends away like liquid. Her hand passes through, leaving ripples that turn the image into static.
"Kael," she whispers. "You're alive."
The Vein replies instead. Its voice is soft, feminine, almost tender.
You can reach him, it says. If you become us.
Mira freezes. The words echo through her bones. Her reflection stares back from a nearby mirror—pale, trembling, veins beneath her skin glowing faint red.
No.
The Vein pulses, louder now, matching the rhythm of her heart. Each beat stronger, deeper, trying to sync with her pulse.
She remembers Kael's voice—calm, steady, promising her they'd find the truth together. That memory cuts through the noise like a blade.
She bites her tongue hard enough to taste blood. The pain anchors her.
"Not yours," she mutters. "Not me."
The ground convulses. The whispers rise to a scream, a thousand pleading voices twisting her name. She falls to her knees, clutching her head.
Then she screams back.
Not from pain—refusal. Defiance.
The sound cracks the space around her. The walls split with white fissures of light, the red haze collapsing inward.
Silence.
Real silence.
Then—a single pulse.
Blue light, faint but pure, cuts through the ruin. It flickers, distant, like a star seen underwater.
Mira lifts her head. Her lips tremble, forming his name.
"Kael…"
She stands and takes one step toward the light. The floor steadies beneath her feet, no longer breathing, just still.
The blue pulse beats again, slower this time.
Somewhere far above, Kael stops walking. A chill runs down his spine—something familiar, a heartbeat that isn't his.
He looks to the horizon. The crimson sky stirs.
The blue light pulses again, stronger now, tugging at Mira. Each step toward it strains her limbs, the ground beneath writhing slightly, as if resisting her will. The red haze of the Vein closes in, whispering fragments of Kael's name, twisted by memory.
"He walks alone… he forgets… he will fail…"
Mira grits her teeth. "No," she says, voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "I won't let you take him from me."
She moves faster, her boots sinking less with each step, guided by the faint pull of the blue light. The whispers rise, a cacophony of countless voices. Every one carries a memory — a sorrow, a regret, a fragment of someone consumed by the Vein. Each memory tries to replace hers, tries to overwrite her sense of self.
Her mind strains. Kael's face flickers in her vision, distorted by the Vein's interference. His eyes are hollow, distant, and for a terrifying moment, she wonders if this is what the Vein wants — to make her believe he's already gone.
Then she feels it. Not the blue light. A pulse, faint but unmistakable, threading through her mind. Her heartbeat. His heartbeat. Overlapping, distant, synchronized.
"Kael," she whispers. The sound resonates, a vibration she can feel in her chest as if calling him across the impossible distance.
Somewhere above the Vein, Kael stops walking. The hair on his arms stands on end. A chill runs down his spine. The pulse of the Vein reacts violently — a tremor racing beneath his feet. He stumbles, clutches his chest, and feels a faint echo of her heartbeat.
He whispers her name.
In the Vein, Mira freezes. The red haze twists, bending toward her. The blue pulse flares, and she realizes something terrifying: the Vein feels her resistance. It is aware, alive, and it doesn't like to be defied.
Threads of red energy lash out, brushing her arms and legs, leaving tingling burns along her skin. Whispers turn to screams. "Become us… become nothing… join the memory…"
She stumbles, nearly falling. But the pulse of Kael's heartbeat strengthens the blue light, wrapping her in a fragile shield. She leans into it, teeth gritted.
"I am me," she says. "I will not be yours. I will not forget him. I will not…"
The Vein pulses in anger, and the red walls shudder violently. Images flicker around her: twisted versions of herself, broken fragments of memories where Kael falls and she disappears. Each one tries to convince her she is already lost.
Mira steps forward anyway. She feels a thread, almost invisible, extending from her chest to a distant point in the crimson expanse. She recognizes it — Kael's presence, faint but alive.
She reaches for it. Every nerve screams, every whisper tries to stop her, but she clutches the thread with both hands. The blue light around her flares again, brighter now, burning through the red haze.
Kael stumbles forward, eyes wide. The faintest shimmer reaches him — a pulse, a rhythm he doesn't recognize. But instinct tells him it's hers. He takes a step, then another, guided by the fragile echo of their bond.
Mira's lips move silently. Her heartbeat, a steady drum, echoes across the expanse of the Vein. The whispers howl, trying to drown it out, but the blue light holds firm.
She reaches the source of the light — a small fissure in the crimson floor, a thin veil shimmering like water. She steps through. The red haze recoils, and for the first time, she sees a path that feels real.
Kael's pulse strengthens. He follows, every instinct telling him to trust the signal. The world shifts around him, but the echo of Mira's heartbeat is constant, unwavering.
Mira turns, glimpses him — no mirrors, no distortions, just the real Kael, or the closest thing she can grasp in this warped place. Relief floods her chest, but she knows it isn't over. The Vein is still alive, still hungry, and it will not let them leave without a fight.
"Kael!" she calls. The word carries weight, defiance, and hope.
He hears her clearly now, a beacon slicing through the crimson fog. He pushes forward, reaching toward her, and for a brief moment, their hands brush — reality shivering beneath the touch.
The Vein pulses violently, red light surging, tendrils of energy trying to separate them. But the blue light from Mira flares again, stronger, tethering them together.
Mira steadies herself, gripping the thread that binds her to him. Her voice is sharp, unwavering. "We fight together. No matter what."
Kael nods, determination blazing in his eyes. "Together."
The crimson world around them quivers. The battle for their connection, for their sense of self, has just begun.