The earth groaned like something ancient forcing itself to breathe again. Cracks spread across the wasteland, glowing with the same silver light that carved Adrielle’s veins. The air itself seemed to buckle under the weight of a heartbeat too vast for any mortal world.

Adrielle staggered back, clutching the coin so tightly her knuckles burned white. The ash-born creature towered above them, wings unfurling with a sound like breaking glass. Its eyes—vast, unblinking voids—fixed on her, and only her.

Alex pulled her behind him, his chains rattling violently as though the creature’s gaze threatened to tear them apart. “Stay back! Don’t let it near you!”

But Maren didn’t move. He lifted his face to the storm with a look of wonder, his voice trembling in awe.

“It’s not coming for her. It’s coming through her. Don’t you see? She isn’t just chosen—she’s the doorway.”

The ground shuddered violently. From the fissures, pale hands clawed upward—silhouettes of lives swallowed by time, their cries echoing through the hollow. The veil was no longer a barrier. It was spilling into reality.

Adrielle’s chest constricted as the coin pulsed, syncing with the creature’s breath. For a moment, she felt herself vanish—her heartbeat replaced by countless others, her voice drowned by a chorus of lives unfinished.

“No!” she screamed, forcing her breath back into her lungs. “I’m not a doorway—I’m not!”

The coin flared, the silver chains across her arm burning like fire. The hands of the dead shrieked and recoiled as though scorched.

For the first time, the creature of ash stirred its wings and bowed its head. Not in attack. In recognition.

And in that silence, a new voice broke through the veil—not the coin’s, not the creature’s, but something closer, sharper.

It whispered her name.

Her blood ran cold. She knew that voice.

But it was impossible.