Ava:
The whisper came first.
Soft as breath, it slipped through the dark, curling around the edges of my dream. I woke with the sound still lingering, a faint voice carried through stone. The room was quiet, but not still.
The air pulsed faintly, as if the palace itself had a heartbeat. Moonlight bled across the floor, silver and thin, falling in ribbons through the high windows. It looked wrong here, pale and cold, as though it had forgotten warmth.
For a moment, I thought it was the sea calling again. But then the voice came once more, clearer this time, layered with others beneath it. It sounded like a thousand whispers pressed into one breath, all murmuring my name.
I sat up, the sheets cool against my skin. Oliver slept beside me, his face turned toward the faint glow that pulsed under his wrist. The light had followed him from the human world, silver and alive.
It moved now in soft waves beneath his skin, matching the rhythm of the whispers I heard. When I reached out to touch his hand, the light flared. The voices grew louder.
The words were not language, not exactly. But I understood them anyway.
"The chamber remembers."
My heart stumbled. I stood, pulling my cloak around my shoulders, the cold air biting against my feet. The sound drew me toward the door, faint and insistent. Each step I took seemed to wake something in the floor. The stone shimmered under my bare feet, faint light threading out like veins.
I hesitated in the doorway. The corridor beyond was dark, the torches long since burned out. But the air there shimmered faintly, the way heat bends light on the horizon.
I should have turned back. I should have stayed with Oliver. But the pull was stronger than reason.
I moved silently through the hall, guided by the whispers that seemed to rise from the walls themselves. The palace was different at night. Its grandeur had softened into something ancient, haunted.
Every portrait I passed seemed to watch, their painted eyes catching what little light there was. The hum of power vibrated beneath my skin, low and alive.
When I reached the end of the corridor, the whisper shifted. A single word echoed above the rest.
"Below."
I turned the corner and found myself before a narrow staircase spiraling downward. The air that rose from it was colder, carrying the scent of dust and rain. Somewhere deep below, I heard the faint drip of water. The sound called to me, steady as a heartbeat.
A voice behind me broke the stillness.
"Mama?"
I turned sharply. Oliver stood at the top of the stairs, his eyes wide, his small hands gripping the rail. The silver under his skin glowed brighter in the dark, casting faint light across his face. He looked frightened, but his voice was calm when he spoke. "It knows your name."
I felt the chill crawl down my spine. "What does?"
He blinked slowly, as though listening to something I could not hear. "The room under the floor. It remembers you."
Before I could answer, he winced and pressed a hand to his temple. The glow beneath his skin flickered, dimmed, then steadied. I went to him, kneeling until we were eye to eye. "You should stay here," I said softly. "Whatever this is, I will handle it."
He shook his head. "You can't. It's calling you."
The fear in his voice nearly broke me. But before I could respond, another sound cut through the silence, boots on stone.
Casimir appeared at the base of the corridor, his expression sharp and alert. The faint light from Oliver's glow reflected in his golden eyes.
"You should not be here," he said, his tone quiet but edged. "This part of the palace is forbidden."
"Then why does it know my name?" I asked. "Why is it calling me?"
He stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the stone beneath my feet, where faint light still trailed. "Because this palace was built on the first rift. Its heart remembers what it once sealed."
Before he could stop me, I took a step forward. The staircase flared to life, light spilling from the cracks. A door appeared at the bottom, an archway carved with symbols I had never seen but somehow understood. They twisted and shimmered, forming the shape of vines curling toward a hidden key.
Casimir cursed under his breath and reached for my arm, but it was too late. The air shuddered. The wall dissolved into light.
We stepped through.
The chamber opened beneath the palace like a cathedral carved from shadow and silver. The ceiling arched high above, glowing veins running through the walls like living rivers of light. The air hummed softly, filled with whispers. They echoed from every surface, old and aching, speaking of love, loss, and betrayal.
I could feel their weight pressing against my chest, each word a breath against my skin. I took another step forward, and the ground beneath me pulsed faintly in response. The whispers shifted, rising to a single tone, gentle, familiar. It was my name again, spoken by a woman's voice.
I looked toward the far wall. There, carved into the stone, was a mural. It showed a woman with silver eyes standing beside a man with golden ones. Between them burned a crack of light, the shape of a heart split in two. I reached out, my fingers brushing the stone. The moment my skin met it, the chamber came alive.
Light flared. The air thickened, and the world shifted around me. Visions struck fast, too bright, too real to be dreams. I saw an ancient battlefield, wolves and fae locked in blood and flame.
I saw Elijah bound in chains of silver, his heart torn from his chest, glowing like molten glass. And then I saw her, the woman from the mural. Her face was my own. Her voice echoed through the light. "The heart of the Veil beats in the blood of a healer."
The vision shattered. I fell to my knees, breathless, the echo of her words still burning in my ears. Casimir caught me before I hit the floor. His arms were strong and steady, but his heart was racing. I could feel it against my cheek.
"What did you see?" he asked softly.
I tried to speak, but the words tangled. "Her… she looked like me. She said…" I stopped, trembling. "It was like watching the world die and begin again."
His grip tightened. "You should not have touched it."
"It wanted me to."
He studied me for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he looked toward the mural, where faint light still flickered. "This place is older than my bloodline. Older than the crown. The Veil was not built here by accident."
Before I could answer, Oliver cried out. His small body shook, light spilling from his hands. I reached for him, but the air between us crackled. The chamber flared again, and the whispers grew louder, overlapping until they became one voice.
"The heart must choose."
The words vibrated through the air, through my bones. Oliver's glow faded as quickly as it had come. He collapsed into Casimir's arms, unconscious but breathing. The chamber went silent, the veins of light dimming until only darkness remained.
We carried him back to our rooms in silence. The corridors felt longer this time, heavier. When we reached the chamber door, Nicholas was waiting. His expression darkened as he took in our faces. "You found it," he said quietly. "The chamber below. It was never meant to open again."
Casimir laid Oliver gently on the bed. "We did not find it. It found her."
Nicholas met my gaze, something wary flickering in his eyes. "Then the Veil has chosen its voice."
The words sent a chill through me. I turned toward the window, where faint veins of light now threaded the night sky, silver bleeding through the dark. The whispers had quieted, but I could still feel them, echoing softly in my chest.
The heart must choose.
I touched the glass, the cold seeping through my fingers. I did not yet know what it meant, but I felt the truth in it. Whatever choice the Veil demanded, it would not be kind.
Casimir
The night outside was still, but I could feel the power humming beneath the city. The chamber had awakened something that would not sleep again. I looked at Ava where she stood by the window, her hair lit silver by the glow. The light that pulsed in her veins matched the rhythm of the realm. The Veil had found its heart, and it beat inside her.
Nicholas was right. The Veil had chosen its voice. And I knew then, as I watched her, that the moment it called her name again, I would follow, no matter where it led.