Silence reigned.

  Even Zia didn’t speak.

  The kind of silence that didn’t just fill a room—it emptied it. Pulled every thought, every breath, into a single point of unraveling.

  I hadn’t meant to say it like that. Hadn’t meant for the words to drop like a blade.

  But they had. And now they hung there. Swinging, cutting.

  Apolloh was the first to move. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it shook like thunder through the air.

  “…Laika.” One word. My name. Like he was trying to hold it together just by saying it.

  I didn’t answer.

  Zia exhaled slowly. “Fuck.” No other words. Just that. Just fuck.

  Caelen leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “You’re certain?”

  “Would I say that if I wasn’t?” I muttered, quieter than I intended.

  Jaxe’s voice piped in, cautious. “So… we’re walking into a place designed to keep that thing asleep? And now we might… accidentally kick it?”

  Zia turned her head toward him. “Yes. But louder.”

  Adrastea still hadn’t returned. Or maybe she had. Maybe she’d been standing there in the doorway all along. I wouldn’t have been surprised anymore. The Veil didn’t care about doors or distance or logic.

  Apolloh moved closer. His hand brushed mine again, steady this time. Grounding.

  “Then we don’t wake it,” he said. “We find what we need. We reinforce the lock. Or break the thing holding the key if that’s what it takes.”

  “I am the key,” I whispered.

  He didn’t flinch. “Then we protect you.”

  His voice left no room for argument.

  Zia cleared her throat, recovering her edge. “Alright. Enough standing around with our heads spinning like knocked-out deer. We have shit to prepare.”

  Caelen pushed off the wall. “We’ll need the stone-readers. Those who know the old pathways. And the Nightguard.”

  Jaxe raised a brow. “You want me to wrangle the Nightguard? After you just yanked me out of bed like a sack of potatoes?”

  Zia smirked. “You’re still standing. You’ll live.”

  “I’m emotionally damaged.”

  “Better than physically damaged.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. “Fair.”

  The mood snapped into motion like a war drum.

  No more silence. No more hanging thoughts. Just movement.

  Urgent. Focused. Ruthless.

  Boots echoed through the stone corridors. Shadows shifted as warriors passed, hands full of wrapped bundles, weapons, canisters of dried powder, talismans strung in bone and hide.

  Caelen issued orders in low, tight bursts—no flourish, no flourish, just facts.

  “Rations for five days. No more. Anything heavier gets left behind.”

  Zia ran a hand through her hair, already tied back. “Double-check the perimeter wards. I want three layers around the keep before we go—bone, ash, and iron.”

  Jaxe stumbled behind them, now fully dressed, adjusting the strap of a satchel overloaded with rolled maps and carved sigils. “I swear if someone hands me one more ‘important’ relic I’m gonna scream.”

  “You scream, I’ll make sure it’s your last breath,” Zia snapped back without looking.

  “Right, love you too.”

  I moved through it all like a shadow. Not idle—but not entirely present, either. Everyone else had a role. Mine felt heavier than all of them combined.

  Apolloh kept close. Not hovering, but near enough to touch. His presence didn’t ground me this time. It balanced me. Like he was matching the pressure instead of pulling me from it.

  Adrastea returned somewhere in the chaos. Her presence cleared space like a knife through fog. She didn’t say a word, just swept a gaze over the preparations and nodded once.

  Approval. Or maybe a warning.

  Someone handed me a satchel. Leather. Heavy. I didn’t even look at what was inside.

  “You’ll need this,” Caelen said. “Even if you don’t think you will.”

  “Is it a blade?”

  “No.”

  “Is it cursed?”

  “Probably.”

  I blinked. He didn’t elaborate. Just walked off.

  Apolloh barked an order across the room—“Double-check the second team’s wards!”—and returned to me with a fresh strap of armor across his chest.

  We met eyes. No words. Just understanding.

  It was happening.

  This was it.

  The journey to Nyxhal was no longer a threat. It was a promise.

  And the Veil…

  The Veil had stopped whispering.

  It was waiting.

  The gates loomed tall and ancient, carved from dark stone veined with silver. They hadn’t been opened in years—not fully. Not like this.

  Tonight, they would groan wide.

  Tonight, they would let the impossible pass through.

  Torches burned along the walls, but their light felt thin. Fragile. The wind had changed again—colder, sharper, like it was being pulled inward.

  The pack was gathered. Those not coming stood in silent lines, eyes wide and filled with something between awe and dread.

  The warriors coming with us stood to the side, marked by black sashes tied to their arms. One by one, each stepped forward, receiving a final check from Zia or Caelen—gear, weapons, wards.

  Jaxe stood near the edge of the group, bouncing on the balls of his feet, pretending not to be nervous. His eyes kept flicking to the stone beyond the gate.

  Apolloh adjusted the strap of his pack, the muscles in his jaw tense.

  “Say it now,” he muttered under his breath. “Whatever anyone needs to say. There won’t be time after this.”

  Adrastea stood a little apart, her gaze locked not on us—but on the Veil beyond. On the shadows that trembled at the edge of the trees. On the direction none of us wanted to name out loud.

  Nyxhal.

  It had no path.

  No trail.

  But we would find it.

  She turned toward me one last time. “Once you pass the warding stones, I won’t be able to reach you. Not through mind, not through tether, not through blood. The Hollow cuts deeper than distance.”

  I nodded. I already knew.

  But hearing it was different.

  A hush fell as the gates began to creak.

  Chains rattled. Mechanisms groaned. The earth itself seemed to tremble.

  The gates opened.

  And the forest beyond didn’t welcome us.

  It waited.

  Still. Watching.

  Daring us.

  I took the first step.

  Behind me, they followed.

  And the Veil, that ancient and shifting curtain between what is known and what should never be, whispered one last breath into my ear:

  “Welcome back.”

  ——

  The forest swallowed us in seconds.

  Branches reached like fingers. Moss muffled every step. Even the wind seemed cautious here—threading through trees in hushed currents, as if it too feared being heard.

  We walked in silence, the kind that wasn’t empty but full—of thought, of pressure, of things left unsaid. No one joked. No one complained. Even Jaxe, usually a heartbeat away from sarcasm, moved quietly beside us.

  The path—or what passed for one—wound through the wild like it had never been touched by sun or age. Our boots disturbed old leaves, broken twigs, the bones of small animals long forgotten. Here and there, strange growths clung to the bark of trees, pulsing faintly as we passed. Not glowing, not quite—but aware.

  I kept looking back.

  Not out of fear.

  But because the longer we walked, the more I felt something closing behind us. Like the forest was stitching itself shut. Erasing the way back.

  Apolloh’s hand brushed mine. “Still good?”

  “I’m fine,” I whispered, though my heart wasn’t entirely convinced.

  Zia walked ahead, cutting through branches like she’d done this a thousand times before. Caelen flanked the rear, eyes scanning the shadows for anything that might follow. The warriors moved in practiced formation, one I hadn’t realized they’d trained for—but maybe they hadn’t. Maybe the instinct came with what we were walking toward.

  Half an hour passed. Maybe more.

  Then Adrastea paused.

  “From here,” she said, “we shift.”

  There was no ceremony to it. No ritual or prayer. Just the sound of fabric pulling away, boots being unlaced, skin touching soil.

  One by one, they dropped into themselves.

  Bones reshaped. Muscles rippled. The forest didn’t flinch—it accepted them, like it had been waiting for this part.

  I hesitated.

  Not out of fear. Not out of doubt.

  But because I felt something stir just under my skin. A tension. A thread pulling tight—not painful, not threatening, just present.

  I breathed out.

  And let go.

  Veyris didn’t fight me. Her shape rose like mist, like a breath caught in a storm, like something older than me stepping forward again.

  When my paws touched the earth, I felt it different.

  Heavier.

  Older.

  A howl rose—low, short, sharp. Zia’s call. Not for danger, not for battle.

  For movement.

  We ran.

  Not away.

  Toward.

  ——

  The wind rushed past my ears like a whisper grown wild. My paws beat against the earth in rhythm with the others, our strides syncing the deeper we pushed into the forest. No path anymore—just instinct, scent, and memory none of us recognized but somehow still trusted.

  Through the bond, silence gave way to flickers of thought.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Zia: Left rise ahead. Watch the root systems—something’s not natural there.

  Caelen: Spread out, but not too far. Don’t lose line of sight.

  Jaxe: Copy. And if I trip on one more thorn vine I’m blaming fate.

  A brief mental pulse of amusement passed through the pack, even in this tension. That was the beauty of Jaxe—able to cut the tension just enough to keep us from breaking.

  I kept to Apolloh’s left flank. Our pace was steady but aggressive. Not a sprint—yet not the cautious prowl of scouting. We moved like we were meant to arrive before the dark did. Because we were.

  The trees changed again. Subtly.

  The bark became darker. The spaces between trunks narrower. The canopy above thickened until light filtered through like cracked glass.

  And the ground… changed.

  Soft at first. Then slick.

  Then… bone.

  Not fresh.

  Old. Bleached. Worn smooth by time and pressure.

  My thoughts sharpened. This isn’t just wild land. This place had been touched. Scarred. And now it was trying to remember the pain.

  Adrastea: We’re close.

  It wasn’t a thought. It was a truth. Heavy in her voice.

  Then a sharp call from Caelen:

  Caelen: Up ahead—clearing. Something’s there.

  We slowed as one. Shapes flickered between the trees. Not movement—but presence. The way fog clings to statues you don’t remember carving.

  When we reached the clearing, it was silent. The kind of silence that didn’t belong to nature. No birds. No wind. Just the sound of our breathing—and the soft crackle of something under our paws.

  Glass.

  Tiny shards scattered across the clearing floor like stardust. When I touched one, it didn’t reflect the forest.

  It reflected me—but wrong. Eyes darker. Fangs bared.

  Veyris rose behind my eyes, alert, ears pricked.

  Veyris: This place is thin.

  A pause. Then softer—

  It remembers us.

  Us?

  Before I could ask, Apolloh stepped beside me, brushing his shoulder to mine.

  Apolloh: We move. Slowly. Weapons ready—whatever form you’re in.

  Zia’s wolf snarled low, a vibration not of threat but warning.

  Something out there was watching.

  And the deeper we went… the closer it got.

  ——

  We hadn’t gone far from the gates when the air shifted.

  No warning. No footsteps. Just her voice, cutting through silence like it always did—like truth breaking bone.

  “Do not touch the glass.”

  We all stopped. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

  I turned—and there she was.

  Adrastea stood just beyond the wardline, draped in the pale light like a ghost made flesh. I didn’t hear her arrive. I wasn’t even sure she’d moved. It felt like she had always been here… waiting for us to reach this moment.

  “There is a place,” she said, stepping forward, “just before the edge of the Hollow. You’ll know it when you feel it. Cold in the bones. Thin in the air. And glass… everywhere.”

  I felt it then. Not the cold—but the weight of it. The knowing.

  She looked at each of us, her gaze sharp as a blade and old as blood.

  “It’s called Virellen’Shai,” she said in the Old Tongue. “The Mirrors That Wait.”

  Something stirred in the others. Zia’s jaw tensed. Jaxe, for once, didn’t crack a joke.

  “They aren’t glass the way you understand it. They weren’t made with heat—but pressure. Time. Emotion. Death. They form in places where the Veil has thinned… or cracked. Some say they grow. Others say they listen.”

  She turned her eyes on me.

  “The truth,” she said, “is worse.”

  Her voice dropped to something quieter than a whisper.

  “They reflect more than your face. They remember. Echoes. Sometimes the past. Sometimes… what never was. One touch and you might find yourself speaking secrets you didn’t know you had.”

  My throat tightened. I felt Apolloh shift closer beside me, his presence a tether.

  “Or worse,” Adrastea added, “see what you could become.”

  The others were still behind me, but I felt them. Staring. Listening. Daring not to breathe.

  “Step lightly,” she said. “Speak less. If you hear yourself call from behind, do not turn. If you see someone you love within it… do not follow. The Mirrors do not wait to be found. They wait to find you.”

  Then she turned—slow, deliberate—and disappeared back into the mist like she had never been there.

  And just like that, we were alone again.

  But the silence? It stayed heavy.

  ——

  We kept walking. No one spoke. Not at first.

  Not after that.

  Adrastea’s warning wasn’t just words—it had sunk its claws into all of us, clinging to our thoughts like fog that wouldn’t burn off. I could still hear her voice in my head. Do not touch the glass.

  Zia: I hate when she does that. Just drops shit like a curse and vanishes.

  Her voice was the first to break the silence, low, barely carrying over the crunch of frostbitten dirt beneath our boots.

  Apolloh: She’s not wrong though. I’ve heard the old stories. About the mirrors. The glass. One time, a scout got turned around in the forest near the Hollow. Came back… different.

  Jaxe: Different how?

  Zia: Didn’t speak for three months. When he finally did, it wasn’t in his voice.

  The silence after that was thicker than the mist.

  We picked up speed.

  Tents were nothing more than rolled bundles strapped to backs now, supplies divided by weight and importance. No one dared bring more than what was necessary. The air grew colder. Trees gave way to craggy rock, spines of earth that seemed to jut upward like the bones of something long dead.

  The further we went, the more the land changed.

  The wind carried whispers—not loud enough to hear, just enough to notice. Shadows moved differently. Like they didn’t belong to us.

  Apolloh: We shift here.

  We paused at the rise of a slope, one that bled into a ravine slick with morning frost. The trail narrowed ahead, and the scent in the air changed—less pack, more… old. Older than the forest. Older than memory.

  Everyone nodded in silent agreement.

  I stepped forward, the first to shift.

  It wasn’t like before—not some sudden burst of wild instinct. This was practiced. Controlled. Deliberate.

  My bones reformed with a shimmer of heat, fur sliding back into skin, paws to feet. I shook once, catching the scent of the trail again with a human breath.

  The others followed—Apolloh beside me, his form solid and quiet, gold eyes sharp under the early light. Zia, silver-streaked hair falling around her shoulders. Jaxe, muttering something about cold toes as he rolled his neck. The rest, fanning out behind us.

  A hunt. A unit.

  A family.

  We moved.

  Faster now. Quieter. No more wasted breath. Just bare feet against stone, breath steaming the cold, and the sound of something waiting just ahead.

  Something glass.

  ——

  The air grows heavy with silence as we approach the shimmering expanse of Virellen’Shai. The glass stretches before us, dark and reflective, capturing glimpses of our path ahead—distorted, twisted. With each step, the ground beneath our feet hums softly, a vibration that seems to settle deep in my bones.

  The others stay close, their eyes wary, but no one speaks. The ominous nature of the glass is felt by all, its shimmering surface like a void waiting to swallow our thoughts, memories, and intentions. None of us truly understand it, but we know better than to question its power now.

  Apolloh is the first to step onto the glass. His bare feet make no sound as he moves across it, his features hard with concentration, as though bracing for something unseen. I follow closely behind, my movements sharp but fluid, matching his caution. We keep our steps light, as though even the smallest misstep might shatter the air around us.

  Zia pauses behind us, glancing back at Jaxe, Caelen, and the others. A brief moment of silent communication passes between them, and then they all follow suit, stepping onto the glass one by one.

  As we move further, the forest around us seems to distort, the trees bending unnaturally. The glass stretches and warps with every movement, reflecting not just the path ahead but strange, fleeting images—futures unformed, histories long past, and faces I almost recognize. A cold wind picks up, rattling the leaves, as though something ancient within the glass is stirring.

  “Stay close,” Apolloh’s voice cuts through the silence, low and steady. “The glass tests you. Do not look too deeply into it.”

  It’s a warning, but one that feels ingrained in all of us. We don’t dare to look too closely. Still, as we move further, it becomes harder to ignore. My gaze flits to the surface of the glass, and for a split second, I catch a fleeting reflection—an image, barely visible, standing at the edge of my mind. A face I know—or one I will come to know.

  The image vanishes in an instant, like a shadow slipping through the cracks of time.

  “Did you see that?” I murmur, glancing over at Apolloh. His gaze is locked ahead, his expression unreadable, as though he’s seen it all before. As though he anticipated it.

  Before I can ask anything more, the air around us thickens, pressing in from all sides. A low hum vibrates through the ground, and the sound seems to intensify with every step we take.

  We are not alone.

  The Virellen’Shai isn’t just a path—it’s a crossroads, a place between places. And I feel it now, as the echoes within the glass start to stir.

  ——

  The air hums around us, thick and alive with something I can’t quite place. Each step on the glass feels heavier now, as if the ground itself is watching us. The trees behind us are becoming shadows, warped by the glass, stretching into impossible angles. I can’t stop my mind from spinning. I try to focus, but the visions keep pulling at me, beckoning like whispers in the dark.

  I glance at Apolloh again, trying to gauge if he feels it too. His expression hasn’t changed, but I know he’s not immune to the pull of the glass. He’s just better at hiding it. He always has been.

  Did I really see something? That face—it was so fleeting, so familiar. My thoughts race, but I push them aside. Focus, Laika.

  I shift slightly, eyes scanning the glass once more, and then I feel it—a tug. A pressure at the edges of my mind. Something is waiting, I can feel it. The Virellen’Shai isn’t just a barrier. It’s a doorway. But to what?

  “Why does it feel like it’s calling to me?” I murmur, half to myself, but loud enough for Apolloh to hear.

  He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward. His voice, when it comes, is quiet but firm.

  “Because it is. And you should resist it, Laika.”

  I pause, my heart pounding in my chest. My eyes dart across the glass once more. The flicker of something familiar dances at the corner of my vision, like a half-formed memory just out of reach.

  It feels so… personal. Why is this glass so drawn to me? Why is it showing me images of faces I barely know, yet somehow recognize?

  I don’t want to look too closely, but I can’t help myself. The curiosity grows, coiling tighter with each step we take.

  I try to keep walking. I really do.

  But that flicker again—just at the edge of the glass—it hooks into something in me. Something old. I slow, footsteps faltering. The others press forward, their reflections warping beside them like echoes that don’t quite follow.

  I stop.

  And look.

  Just for a second.

  The glass doesn’t show me myself. Not really. It shows a version of me, older maybe—no, not older. Changed. Eyes that hold the storm. A strange mark along her throat, like something burned into skin and soul. She looks at me. Not through me. At me.

  She opens her mouth—and for a heartbeat, the hum in the air vanishes.

  “You’re late.”

  The words crash through me, low and broken, like something ancient that forgot how to speak. My breath catches in my chest. I blink, but the reflection doesn’t disappear. She just waits, staring, unmoving.

  “Laika?” It’s Zia’s voice behind me, sharp with concern.

  I turn away from the glass like I’ve been burned. “I—I saw…” My throat’s tight. “She spoke to me.”

  “Who?” Caelen’s voice now, closer. The group is slowing, noticing. Attention shifting. The hum has returned, louder now, vibrating through the soles of my feet and into my chest.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. But that’s a lie. I do know.

  It was me. Or something that could be.

  Before I can say anything else, a crack splits the silence. Not glass breaking—deeper. A sound from beneath the glass. Like something stirring far below.

  The path beneath our feet ripples. Just for a moment. A pulse. A warning.

  Jaxe’s hand drops to the hilt of his blade without thinking. “Tell me we didn’t wake something up.”

  I don’t answer.

  Because we absolutely did.

  I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the sensation. That woman—me—staring at me, speaking in that voice that wasn’t mine. My heart’s racing, the hum beneath my feet still vibrating up my legs, pulling at my nerves.

  “Stay focused,” I mutter to myself. I’ve never been the kind to lose my composure, but right now? Right now, I feel like I’m starting to unravel.

  I take a deep breath, willing the vision to fade. It doesn’t. Instead, something shifts in the glass again, something dark and wrong—alive. The reflections begin to move, not just flicker but crawl, stretching at the edges like liquid nightmares.

  I reach for Apolloh, desperate for something real, something solid. My fingers brush his arm, and he glances at me, his gaze sharp, but his eyes hold a flicker of something—something I can’t place. Concern, maybe? Or is it recognition?

  “Keep moving,” he says quietly, his voice calm, but there’s something in the way his shoulders are set, like he’s bracing for something I can’t see.

  I nod. I have to keep moving. But my feet feel heavy, as though they’re dragging through water. I glance over my shoulder at the others, their faces drawn tight, eyes flicking nervously to the glass, too. They’ve sensed it too. The change. The pull.

  But something else is happening now. Something worse.

  The glass seems to breathe. The reflections twist violently—become fluid, black pools swirling with light and shadow. Faces—no, not faces—things—move just behind the glass, shuddering and stretching like creatures that should never be. They are watching us, their eyes like holes, dark and endless. They open wide, mouths twisting into a shape that isn’t quite human.

  One of them—a face I know—leans closer to the surface of the glass, its features slowly forming. I can’t look away. It’s not the woman anymore, but a thing that could have been. Its smile is wrong—far too wide. Its teeth are jagged, too many, and its eyes burn with something hollow, pulling at the space between us.

  I try to scream, but my voice is swallowed by the hum, the pulse beneath the glass. Instead, I fall back, stumbling, crashing into Caelen.

  “What—?” he starts, but his words stop cold when he looks into the glass.

  For a split second, I swear he sees it too. The thing that isn’t just a reflection anymore. A twisted version of something… someone… us.

  And then, the air around us goes still. As if time itself hesitates.

  The thing—whatever it is—pulls back from the glass, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. But the echo of its presence lingers. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can barely breathe.

  “Did you see that?” I whisper, trying to calm the shaking in my hands.

  Apolloh’s expression hardens, and he steps forward, pulling me with him. “It’s trying to pull us in. Don’t let it.”

  His voice cuts through the terror like a knife, but the glass—the glass—still hums, still waits. And now, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s listening, waiting for me to take one step too far.

  Without another word, we all begin to move faster, urgency sinking in like a cold weight in my chest. The longer we stay here, the more the glass seems to want us. The hum beneath our feet deepens, like a pulse that grows louder the more we resist it, the more we think about it.

  I try to focus, forcing my legs to move faster, my breath to steady. Apolloh keeps a tight grip on my arm, his steps measured, but he’s quick—faster than I am. I see Zia’s eyes dart to the glass with every step, her movements tense, as though every footfall could drag her in. Caelen’s face is a grim mask, and Jaxe—he doesn’t look back, but I know he feels it too. We all do. The pull. The weight. The hunger of the glass.

  My thoughts are a mess. I can’t stop thinking about what I saw—what I almost saw. The things behind the glass, crawling, stretching—alive. And the version of me—was that a warning? Or something worse?

  “No one stop,” Apolloh says, his voice steady, even as his own breath starts to quicken. “Keep moving. Don’t look back. Don’t look at it.”

  But I can’t stop the tremor that shakes my hand. I glance over my shoulder. The glass is silent now, but it’s still there, like an eye watching us from the depths of a long, forgotten ocean. I can almost hear it, feel it tugging at my thoughts, pulling me closer to whatever darkness lies beneath.

  I hear the sound again, this time louder—closer. The pulse beneath the glass intensifies, vibrating through the ground like a drumbeat, like something awakening. But this time, the thing beneath it is different. It feels different.

  I glance up. We’re almost across. Just a few more steps. But that thing—whatever it is—makes a lurching sound beneath the glass. A crack. Not from the surface but from somewhere deep inside.

  “Go!” Apolloh shouts, urgency threading through his voice. “We don’t want to be here when it breaks.”

  And then, we push harder.

  ——

  Harder—faster—that’s all I can think. Every step feels like it could be our last, like the ground beneath us is crumbling away, pulling us closer to the darkness beneath the glass. I can hear my heart in my ears, thumping in time with the growing hum, the pulse beneath the glass that keeps rising, pushing, clawing at us.

  A deep crack rips through the air, not from the surface this time, but from deep inside the glass. The earth beneath my feet trembles, just slightly—like the world itself is shaking in fear. I glance to my left, and for a moment, I swear I see the glass bend—as though something is pressing up from below.

  “Faster!” Apolloh snaps, his hand tightening on my arm, pulling me forward.

  The others are ahead of us now, but they’re moving with the same sense of desperate speed. The glass is slick with sweat—mine, theirs, or something more. I can’t tell. I can barely feel my legs, my thoughts, anything other than the overwhelming pull of the glass, trying to swallow me whole.

  “Almost there,” Zia mutters through clenched teeth, her voice tight with effort. “We can’t let it—”

  She’s cut off by another crack. This one is louder, sharper, like the breaking of a bone. The glass shudders, like something inside it is pushing against the surface, trying to claw its way out. The air around us thickens, crackling with static. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  “Go, go, go!” Jaxe roars, his voice laced with panic now. He doesn’t wait for anyone to follow, launching forward with a surge of speed, his feet barely touching the ground. It’s like he’s trying to outrun the very air itself.

  I push myself harder, my breath ragged, my legs burning, and I finally glance up. Just ahead. The edge of the glass. The trees beyond it. The way out.

  We’re almost there.

  But just as I think we’re in the clear, the glass shatters. Not in the way you’d expect—there’s no explosion, no falling shards. Instead, the surface fractures, splintering like a mirror breaking into a thousand shards, but there’s no sound. Just an eerie, suffocating silence as the pieces of the glass hover in the air, suspended by some force I can’t understand.

  The shards don’t fall. They move.

  One by one, they twist through the air, spiraling toward us like hungry, jagged teeth. The pulse beneath the glass has turned into a roar, a violent, crashing sound. It’s not just the glass breaking anymore—it’s alive, and it’s coming for us.

  “Move!” Apolloh shouts again, his voice sharp and filled with an urgency that makes my blood freeze. “Keep running!”

  I don’t need to be told twice. My legs push harder, the ground beneath me a blur as the glass—those shards—snaps through the air toward us. I can feel the heat of them as they pass, like they’re about to burn us alive.

  And then, finally, with one last effort, we’re through.

  We stumble into the trees beyond the glass, breathless, hearts pounding in our chests. The air is heavy, thick with tension, and we don’t stop running. Not yet.

  Behind us, the Virellen’Shai looms, a shattered, twisted thing in the distance. The echoes of its hum still reverberate in the air, but for now, it doesn’t follow.

  For now.