The trek back to the inn felt heavier than it should have. My limbs ached, not from physical strain but from something deeper, something I couldn't shake. The power of the Rift still coursed through me, cold and unsettling, yet… intoxicating. I could feel it just beneath my skin, whispering at the edges of my mind.
"You have taken the first step, my dear Noctis," Veylara purred in my thoughts, her voice a smooth lullaby of corruption. "There will be no turning back now. But that is what you wanted, isn't it? Strength beyond your limits… a means to shape your own destiny."
I clenched my jaw, pushing her voice aside as I stepped into the inn. The warmth of the common room stung against the cold void within me, but I ignored it. The dim candlelight flickered over the wooden tables, the scent of mead and roasted meat lingering in the air. Few people were still awake—drunken adventurers mumbling in hushed tones, a few inn staff cleaning up—but none paid me any mind.
I ascended the stairs and entered my room.
Elaris lay curled up beneath the covers, her golden hair spread over the pillow, her breathing soft and steady. Seeing her like that—so peaceful, so untouched by the madness creeping into my soul—made something inside me tighten. I had seen so much death, so much destruction. But this? This was still pure.
Carefully, I slid into bed beside her. The warmth of her presence thawed some of the cold lingering in my chest. She stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible before instinctively moving closer, resting her head against my shoulder.
I stared up at the ceiling, thoughts spiraling.
What had I done?
Would I regret it?
Would she?
Morning came too soon.
A soft knock at the door stirred me from a restless sleep. I blinked, adjusting to the golden glow filtering through the window. Elaris was still beside me, but her eyes fluttered open as the knocking came again.
"Noctis?" she murmured, her voice laced with sleep.
I sighed, sitting up and rubbing my temples. "Yeah… I'll get it."
I pulled on my shirt and walked over, opening the door to find Alaria standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floor.
"Finally," she huffed, pushing past me into the room. "You two planning to sleep the entire damn day away?"
Elaris sat up, stretching lazily. "Morning to you too, Alaria."
"Yeah, yeah, good morning, sunshine." Alaria waved a dismissive hand. "Let's go. We're exploring the village today, and I'm not dealing with this mushy couple nonsense slowing us down."
I rolled my eyes but smirked. "You sure you're not just jealous?"
Alaria's emerald eyes narrowed dangerously. "Keep pushing me, Noctis. I dare you."
Elaris just chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. Let's go."
The village of Sundermere was lively in the morning.
Golden fields stretched in every direction, their endless sway resembling a rolling ocean of wheat and wildflowers. The sound of wind chimes echoed softly as a cool breeze rustled through the whispering reeds lining the dirt paths. Merchants called out their wares—everything from fresh-baked bread to finely woven tapestries. The scent of roasted meat and herbs filled the air.
We wandered the streets, taking in the sights.
Alaria was grinning, slipping between market stalls with a curious, almost mischievous glint in her eye. She stopped at a small booth selling ornate silver daggers, picking one up and twirling it between her fingers with expert ease.
"What do you think?" she asked, looking at me with a smirk.
"I think you have enough knives," I replied dryly.
"Tch. You can never have enough knives," she shot back, but eventually, she put it down and moved on.
Elaris, on the other hand, had stopped near a stall where an elderly woman was selling handmade charms. Small wooden carvings, inscribed with old symbols of protection, hung from strings.
"These are beautiful," Elaris murmured, running her fingers over one shaped like a crescent moon.
The woman smiled warmly. "They bring good fortune to travelers. You look like one who walks a long road, child."
Elaris smiled but didn't respond. I could see the contemplation in her eyes. The weight of what we were doing—of where we were going—weighed on her just as much as it did me.
Then—
"Veylara."
The name hit my ears like a hammer.
I turned sharply, my breath hitching.
A small crowd had gathered near a makeshift stage in the center of the village. An old storyteller stood there, his hands animated as he spun his tale. The villagers listened intently, their eyes wide.
I felt Elaris and Alaria tense beside me.
"Did he just say—" Alaria started.
"He did," I muttered. "Let's listen."
We moved closer, slipping into the crowd just as the storyteller's voice rose, carrying over the wind.
"The Queen of the Void, the Weaver of Shadows, the Mistress of the Forgotten—Veylara."
The name sent a chill down my spine.
The storyteller's voice was deep and dramatic, every word carefully woven to capture his audience.
"Long ago, before kingdoms rose and fell, before the gods abandoned these lands, there was her. A woman, a sorceress, a being of power so great that she defied even the will of fate itself. She was not of this world, nor of the next. A traveler between realms, an entity who whispered to kings, who unraveled empires with but a word."
His hands swept through the air, the crowd hanging on his every breath.
"She was betrayed—cast into the darkness, sealed away in a tomb lost to time. But even now, her voice lingers… her whispers call to those who dare to listen."
I felt Veylara's presence stir within me.
"They speak of me as if I were a relic of the past," her voice hummed, almost… amused.
I swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably.
Alaria frowned. "So she was real to them too. Not just some forgotten name."
Elaris wasn't looking at the storyteller anymore—she was looking at me.
I refused to meet her gaze.
The storyteller continued.
"Many have sought her resting place, and none have returned. It is said her power still lingers, waiting for the one foolish enough to set her free."
Silence.
The air was thick.
The crowd murmured amongst themselves.
I barely noticed.
All I could hear was Veylara's voice, whispering sweetly in my mind.
"See, Noctis? Even here, they remember me. They fear me. And yet… you are the only one who has touched my power, the only one who walks the path toward my freedom."
I clenched my fists.
She wasn't lying.
I had already begun my descent. There was no turning back.
The question was…
Did I want to?
The murmurs of the crowd faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding in my ears. The storyteller's voice still rang clear, yet I barely registered his words.
"You are the only one who truly knows the weight of my name," Veylara whispered, her voice wrapping around my thoughts like a silken noose. "And yet, even here, even among those who have never seen me, my presence lingers. You have felt it, haven't you? The truth of what you are becoming?"
I swallowed, hard. My hands were curled into fists, my nails pressing into my palms. I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone around me knew, that somehow they could see the rift-touched corruption coiling in my veins, lurking just beneath the surface.
Elaris tugged gently at my sleeve, pulling me back to reality.
"Noctis?" she murmured, concern lacing her voice.
I blinked, shaking my head slightly. "Yeah?"
"You spaced out again." Her voice was soft, but firm. "I know that look. What is she saying to you?"
I hesitated, glancing to the side. Alaria was watching me just as intently, her arms crossed over her chest, suspicion flickering in her emerald eyes.
I forced a smirk. "Nothing important. Just the usual cryptic nonsense."
Elaris didn't look convinced.
Alaria scoffed. "Well, whatever mind games your ghost girlfriend is playing, she better keep them to herself. That storyteller just said people who try to find her tomb don't come back. And you're telling me that doesn't make you think twice?"
"Of course it does," I said, flatly.
"No, it doesn't," Veylara purred. "Because you and I both know that fate is already written. And your path, my dear Noctis, leads straight to me."
The thought made my stomach tighten.
The crowd around us began to disperse, some shaking their heads as they muttered about ancient curses and foolhardy adventurers. A few exchanged wary glances in my direction, as if they could sense something off about me.
Elaris noticed, too. She reached for my hand, squeezing it gently.
"We should go," she said softly. "We got what we came for."
I nodded, trying to push the unease aside. The others followed as we made our way back through the bustling streets, leaving the storyteller's warnings lingering behind us like ghosts.
The sun was beginning to set by the time we returned to the inn. The golden light bathed Sundermere in a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold knot of unease in my chest.
We entered the common room, the familiar scent of roasted meats and ale filling the air. The tavern was livelier now, filled with adventurers swapping stories, merchants negotiating trade deals, and locals humming tunes to themselves as they enjoyed their meals.
We found a table near the back, away from prying ears. I sat down, exhaling slowly, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of the storyteller's words.
Alaria plopped down next to me, kicking her boots up onto the bench with her usual arrogance. "So," she started, "are we just gonna ignore the fact that the king's quest and the creepy ghost story are about the same damn place?"
"No," Elaris said, voice steady but grim. "We're not."
Gareth, who had been quiet for most of the day, leaned forward, his sharp eyes flicking between us. "You think this tomb the king wants us to find… is hers?"
I glanced at him, then at Veylara—or rather, the faint shimmer of her presence at the corner of my vision. She hadn't fully materialized, but I could feel her watching.
I hesitated for a moment. Then, finally, I answered.
"I don't think it is," I said slowly. "I know it is."
The table went silent.
Lucian let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Well. That's just bloody fantastic."
Rowan, ever the quiet observer, was watching me with his dark, unreadable gaze. "That means we're not the only ones after her tomb."
I nodded. "Exactly."
Callen exhaled through his nose. "Then that raises a bigger question. Why now? If her tomb has been lost for centuries, why is everyone suddenly looking for it?"
That was the real question, wasn't it?
I turned my gaze to Veylara, silently willing her to give me something—anything that could make sense of this.
For a moment, she remained silent.
Then, slowly, her golden eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Oh, my dear Noctis," she whispered, her voice curling around my thoughts like smoke. "You already know the answer."
A shiver ran down my spine.
The answer was me.
Something had changed the moment I forged that pact.
Something had awakened.
And now, the world was beginning to move.
"We should rest," Elaris finally said, cutting through the heavy silence. "Tomorrow, we need to decide if we're truly taking this quest."
Alaria huffed. "Please. Like you're gonna say no."
Elaris shot her a look, but didn't deny it.
One by one, everyone stood, retreating to their rooms for the night. I lingered for a moment, staring into the flickering candlelight.
"It won't be long now," Veylara purred, her voice honey-sweet. "Your fate is set. And soon… you will understand why."
I swallowed, standing up and making my way to my room, unable to shake the feeling that something was coming.
Something I wasn't sure I was ready for.
The inn was quiet now, save for the occasional creak of the wooden beams and the soft murmur of voices from downstairs. The warm glow of the lantern outside my window barely cut through the darkness that settled over the room, casting long, shifting shadows against the walls.
I sat at the edge of the bed, fingers laced together, elbows resting on my knees. My thoughts refused to settle.
The story we had heard earlier kept circling in my mind like a vulture, preying on my already restless state. The way the villagers spoke of Veylara—with fear, with awe, with uncertainty.
"She was sealed away for a reason."
"Those who seek her tomb never return."
"Her whispers lure the foolish into the dark, and they are never seen again."
I let out a slow exhale, staring at the floor. I knew Veylara better than any of them. Didn't I?
"You hesitate."
Her voice curled around me, a cool breath against the back of my neck.
I didn't turn. I didn't need to.
"I don't hesitate," I muttered. "I think."
"Thinking," she echoed with a soft laugh, stepping forward until she was in front of me, her form barely solid, veils drifting like mist. Her golden eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Tell me, what is it that you think about, my dear Noctis? Do you question your path? Or do you question yourself?"
I clenched my jaw, finally lifting my gaze to meet hers. "You said it yourself. My fate is set. What's the point of questioning?"
Veylara smiled, tilting her head, studying me. "Ah, and yet, here you are, awake in the dead of night, burdened by thoughts you claim not to have."
I didn't answer.
She took another step, lowering herself to sit beside me on the bed. Her form didn't weigh anything—not like a real person. It was like she was there and not there, a mirage in the dim glow of my lantern.
"You doubt me."
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "I don't doubt you, Veylara. I just—"
"Go on," she encouraged, her voice as soft as silk.
I let out a bitter chuckle. "I've spent years carrying your whispers in my head. Every time I take a step forward, I feel like I'm sinking deeper into something I don't understand. And now, suddenly, I'm 'Voidbane Seraph,' the one who killed the Vampire King, the one being summoned by kings to chase a legend. But I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with it."
Veylara was quiet for a moment. Then, she reached up, a cold, weightless hand brushing my hair back from my face. "You are not lost, Noctis. You are awakening."
I stilled at the way she said it.
"You have always been different," she continued, her golden gaze steady, unwavering. "The rift calls to you because it was meant for you. Do you think it is mere chance that you wield its power? That you have survived when others would have been consumed? The world does not move for those who are insignificant. And you, my dear, are far from insignificant."
I swallowed hard. The air between us felt heavier now, like the weight of her words was pressing down on me.
"…Then tell me something," I said at last, slowly, carefully. "The Riftbinding… how far can it take me? If I keep using it—if I keep pushing—what happens?"
Veylara smiled again, but there was something in her expression. Something unreadable.
"Power like yours has no ceiling, only consequences."
I tensed. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that the more you embrace it, the less the world will be able to hold you."
I looked away, jaw tightening. That answer didn't help. It only made the weight on my chest heavier.
Veylara reached out, lifting my chin with a single ghostly finger, forcing me to look at her again.
"You fear becoming something beyond human. And yet, my dear, have you ever truly been one of them?"
The question hit like a dagger to the gut.
I tried to scoff, to laugh it off, but the words wouldn't come. She had struck something deep, something I didn't want to acknowledge.
Had I ever belonged?
Since childhood, since the academy, since the tournament, since everything—had I ever been just a person? Had I ever been allowed to be one? Or had I always been something other?
Veylara saw the answer in my eyes before I could even deny it.
"You were always meant for more, Noctis. And I…" she leaned in, her voice a breath against my skin, "I will show you the way."
I swallowed hard, looking away. "…I should get some sleep."
"Of course," she said, pleased. "You have much to dream about."
I felt her presence fade, but even as I lay back, pulling the blanket over myself, I knew—she was always there.
Watching.
Waiting.