The world woke in silence.

Not the silence of death — but the kind that follows a song that ended too soon.

Ash had turned to light, and the ruins were gone. In their place stood a forest of glass, trees that shimmered with fragments of memory. Every leaf whispered a name, and every breeze carried echoes of what used to be.

Alex opened his eyes beneath that silver sky.

The chains were gone. The weight, too. Only her name remained, lingering on his tongue like a prayer he’d forgotten how to finish.

“Adrielle…”

He tried to move, but the ground itself pulsed with light beneath his hands — like veins of the veil still breathing through the earth. The air was warm, yet the shadows carried her voice — soft, fading.

He turned sharply.

For a moment, he swore he saw her standing at the edge of the clearing — hair glowing pale, eyes distant as the moon. But when he blinked, she was gone. Only ripples in the air remained.

Maren appeared behind him, limping slightly, his coat torn but eyes burning with purpose.

“She’s not gone,” he said quietly. “You feel it, don’t you? The world itself remembers her.”

Alex looked up. The sky above them wasn’t blue anymore — it shimmered silver, like the surface of a broken mirror reflecting every possible reality at once.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“The world after her,” Maren murmured. “The veil didn’t end… it became. She became it.”

Alex’s hand clenched. “Then I’ll find her. I don’t care if she’s memory, light, or shadow.”

Maren’s lips twitched into a faint, sorrowful smile.

“Be careful what you chase, Alex. Memories have teeth.”

As they walked, the forest shifted around them — paths changing, reflections watching. Somewhere far beyond the horizon, a faint hum began to rise. It wasn’t wind. It was her heartbeat.

And deep within the folds of that new world, where no mortal had ever walked, Adrielle opened her eyes again — her pupils pale silver, her breath echoing with a thousand voices.