Her breath caught in her throat.
That voice. Clear, close—too close.
Adrielle.
It wasn’t Alex. It wasn’t Maren.
It was a voice she had buried in memory, one she thought the veil had swallowed long ago.
Her brother.
“Eren…?” Her whisper cracked, fragile as glass.
The storm around them shifted violently, the ash scattering into shapes that struggled to hold form. And there—between the fissures of light and shadow—stood a figure. His outline flickered, torn between flesh and memory, but the eyes… the eyes were unmistakable.
Alex swore under his breath. “That’s not possible. He’s gone.”
But Adrielle took a step forward, trembling. “No… no, he’s here. I can hear him!”
The coin pulsed wildly, its light bending toward the figure as though it recognized him too. The hands of the dead shrieked louder, clawing against the ground, retreating from the glow that surrounded him.
Maren’s expression hardened, awe twisting into hunger. “Of course… Of course! The veil doesn’t just remember—it returns. Don’t you see, Adrielle? This is what it’s been waiting for. Not to destroy, but to give back what was lost.”
Eren—if it was truly him—lifted his face. His voice shook like wind over broken glass.
“Adrielle… don’t trust them. Don’t trust any of them. The veil doesn’t give—it takes. And it’s already taking you.”
The ground convulsed. The massive creature above spread its wings again, and with each beat, the hollow split wider, as though choosing which truth to obey: Maren’s promise, or Eren’s warning.
Adrielle clutched the coin to her chest, her tears burning against the silver light. She had begged for answers—now the answers wore the face of someone she thought she’d never see again.
And for the first time, she wished the veil had stayed silent.
