The dawn came late that morning — hesitant, silver, and cold.
Kian hadn't slept. He stood at the edge of the blackened clearing where the tear in the sky had sealed itself shut again, the earth still scorched beneath his boots. The forest around him smelled of ozone and ash, but beneath that, faint as breath, lingered a familiar scent — rain, wild roses, and something he couldn't name.
Lyra.
He clenched his hand, feeling the steady pulse of the mark beneath his wrist. It had never faded since the storm. It was no longer just a symbol; it was a direction.
A compass made of memory.
"She's close," he said quietly.
Aiden, standing behind him, frowned. "Who?"
Kian turned, his eyes shadowed. "The one I lost."
Miles away, in the shimmering half-world that lay between the mortal realm and the high citadel of mages, Lyra stumbled through the fog of light and shadow. Her body felt foreign, her heartbeat echoing in places where the air itself seemed alive. The crystal shard she carried pulsed with golden light, guiding her steps.
Everywhere around her, the veil crackled — thin threads of magic twisting through the air like static. She knew what that meant.
They had noticed.
And they would come.
Lyra paused beneath a warped willow. The ground here was glassy, reflecting a thousand distorted versions of her face. Each reflection whispered a different memory — her laughter, her fear, her love.
"Kian," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
The reflections shivered. Somewhere in the distance, the air tore with a sound like thunder turned inside out.
The Hunt had begun.
In the Citadel of the Veil
Archmage Kaelara's cloak swept across the marble floor as she entered the council chamber.
"Report."
"The tether's breach has reached the mortal border," her lieutenant said, voice trembling. "Residual magic indicates she's crossed over."
Kaelara's eyes narrowed. "Then she lives."
"For now."
"And the Alpha?"
"His mark resonates again. The bond is reforming."
Kaelara's hand tightened on the armrest. "That bond nearly destroyed the balance last time. I won't let it happen again."
She turned to the assembled hunters — half-shadow, half-steel, beings born of magic and silence.
"Track the golden pulse. When you find her, sever the link. If the Alpha interferes…" Her gaze darkened. "…end him."
Back in the Mortal Woods
Kian moved through the trees like a shadow reborn. His senses were sharper than they'd ever been — every sound distinct, every scent alive. The world around him seemed to hum with quiet energy, a low vibration that sang through his bones.
"She's pulling me toward her," he murmured.
Aiden looked uneasy. "Or someone wants you to think that."
Kian half-smiled, though there was no warmth in it. "You still think this is madness."
"I think the last time you felt like this, it nearly killed you."
Kian didn't respond. Instead, he crouched and pressed his fingers to the soil. The ground was warm, humming with magic that shouldn't exist on this side of the veil.
"She's been here," he whispered.
As the day bled into twilight, the woods grew quiet again — too quiet. The wind held its breath.
Then came the sound: not footsteps, not wings, but something in between.
The veil hunters.
They slipped through the forest like shadows unanchored, cloaked in mist. Their eyes glowed faintly blue — not human, not alive.
They were tracking her scent.
Lyra froze where she stood. She felt the shift before she saw them — the ripple in the air, the way her heartbeat suddenly wasn't hers alone.
She turned. The first hunter emerged from the fog, blade drawn, face hidden behind a mask of obsidian.
Lyra lifted the golden shard. It pulsed once, twice — then burst into light.
The hunter staggered back, hissing as the light burned through his armor. But more were coming — dozens of them, moving soundlessly through the trees.
Her voice shook. "You won't take him again."
The ground beneath her split open, gold veins cracking through the soil like fire beneath ice. Wind spiraled up, lifting leaves and shards of light into the air. When she raised her hand, the forest answered.
Roots tore through the ground, wrapping around the nearest hunter and dragging him down.
Lyra's eyes blazed with the same gold that pulsed in her shard. "I remember now."
Far away, Kian stumbled to his knees, clutching his chest as if something had struck him.
"Kian!" Aiden rushed forward, but Kian's eyes were distant — glowing faintly.
"She's fighting," he gasped. "She's awake."
And then the forest roared.
Every tree bent toward the same direction. The wind carried her magic — sharp, wild, full of grief and love and fury.
He rose slowly, his gaze hardening.
"Aiden," he said. "Call the pack. We hunt too."
As the sun died and the moon rose red above the horizon, two forces began to move — one chasing, one searching — both bound to collide before dawn.
The veil shimmered faintly in the distance, trembling like it feared what was coming.
And from within the forest, a voice whispered on the wind — neither prayer nor curse, but a promise:
No one breaks the bond this time.