You woke to the sound of crickets humming nearby. Everything was blurry at first — just shapes and light coming in from the edges of your vision. You squinted against it. Your eyes ached.

  The sky above was darker than it should’ve been — maybe dusk, or maybe just heavy cloud — but it was clear. No movement. No birds. Just that still, brittle kind of quiet that came after something unnatural.

  And then Vael’s face appeared above you.

  He was crouched close, his hair falling loose around those sharp, impossible features. Gray eyes locked on yours, cold and steady. He didn’t look relieved or worried… just observant. Studying you like a blade he wasn’t sure was finished being forged.

  “You awake?” he asked.

  You blinked hard, trying to focus. The ground was cool beneath your back, damp with old leaves and dirt. Your hand twitched as you looked at your palm like it might tell you something.

  “What… what just happened?” you asked.

  “You fell,” he said quietly. “Dropped like a sack of wheat the moment she looked at you.”

  You sat up slowly, the world spinning once before it steadied. The memory was already slipping — her eyes, her voice, that last second of something… wrong. You rubbed your forehead.

  “She showed you something,” Vael went on. “Not all of it. Just a glimpse. That’s all it takes.”

  He extended a hand. You hesitated, then took it. His grip was firm. He pulled you up in one motion, though your legs wobbled a bit once you were standing.

  You brushed off your coat, wiping away bits of moss and grit. “Where is she?”

  “Gone,” he said. “Slipped off while you were out. Guess she figured she made her point.”

  You glanced around. The clearing was quiet again. No sign of her. Just the breeze stirring the grass. You flexed your feet and winced a little.

  “Still with us?” Vael asked, eyeing you.

  “Yeah. I think so. My feet are kinda… strange, though. Cold. Like pins and needles, you know? Like when your leg goes numb and comes back.”

  He gave a small nod. “That’ll pass.”

  You shifted your weight, rolling your feet inside your boots.

  Vael watched you for a second, then said, “It happened before.”

  You looked up. “What?”

  “In the tavern,” he said. “Back when this all started. You don’t remember?”

  You shook your head. “No.”

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  “Had to carry you out through the outskirts,” he said. “Whole town was falling apart behind us.”

  You frowned. “I don’t remember any of that.”

  Vael gave a faint smirk, eyes scanning the treeline like he wasn’t entirely present.

  “Well… at least you remember our little girlfriend now,” he said. “That means you’ve progressed.”

  You raised an eyebrow. “Progressed?”

  He shrugged. “Most people don’t survive a glimpse, let alone hold on to the memory. The fact that you saw her — really saw her — and you’re still upright?”

  He looked at you. “That’s not nothing.”

  You shook your head, still trying to piece it all together.

  “I don’t get it,” you said. “I saw Eryth right after, in the cave. He didn’t do anything like this to me.”

  Vael’s mouth twitched. “You think that was Eryth?”

  He blinked once, like he was deciding whether to take it seriously. Then he let out a short laugh — not mocking, just… surprised.

  It caught you off guard. Not because it was loud, but because it was real.

  For a second, just a second, something changed in him. He looked younger. Lighter. Like someone you might’ve known once. Before the blade. Before the mark.

  And you realized then: it suited him.

  “That thing in the cave?” he said finally. “No. That was just… a costume. A projection. A dumbed-down version we could handle. Gods don’t show their real faces unless they want something from you. Or unless you’re already too far gone to scream.”

  His voice was calm again. Edges back in place. But something lingered — the echo of that breath between the lines.

  He glanced at you. “Didn’t they teach you any of this at the academy?”

  You shook your head slowly.

  “So… what would his real form even be?”

  At those words, Vael’s expression darkened.

  His gaze drifted past you toward the trees, like he was watching something play out in the distance.

  “Who knows what these gods really are,” he said grimly. “What they look like… how they think.”

  He paused. “No one’s ever seen it and stayed sane. No one can. Maybe Burk, but…”

  He trailed off. Something quickly changed in his eyes.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “She’s got Burk.”

  You frowned. “What?”

  Vael folded his arms, one hand absently rubbing his jaw as he stared into the trees.

  “We’ve lost the voice,” he murmured. “That’s not good... Eryth’s not gonna like this at all.”

  You watched him, silent for a moment — his eyes far away, like he was thinking through ten different outcomes at once. Then you spoke.

  “Vael… what do we do now? Go after her? Try to get Burk back?”

  He blinked, like waking from a dream. His gaze slid back to you.

  “We,” he said, with quiet emphasis, “do nothing. Not yet. Especially now that we’ve seen how unprepared you are for any of this.”

  He stepped past you, boots brushing through the tall grass. The field was scattered with bodies — Corran’s men, broken and still. Vael moved through them, then paused beside one. He knelt and pulled a sword from the corpse’s grip.

  The blade caught the last of the light, flashing as he turned it in his hands. He gave it a test swing — short, sharp, controlled — then glanced back at you.

  “You held your ground,” he said. “When Corran and his dogs came at you. That counts.”

  Then, without warning, he tossed the sword.

  You caught it.

  Your hand didn’t hesitate this time. It closed around the hilt in one smooth motion — no twitch, no flinch. Just instinct. Like it belonged there.

  Vael raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased.

  “See? Progress already.”

  He turned, eyes scanning the blade in your grip.

  “You should keep that one. It’s a good blade. Old, touched by magic. Corran was able to stop my blow with it. Not many blades can do that.”

  You looked down. The metal shimmered faintly in your palm. There was something etched into the fuller — a line of script in a language you didn’t recognize, gleaming as the curve of the blade caught Vael’s reflection.

  He had already moved on, stopping by two more corpses. He crouched, rummaging through bloodied coats and broken packs. Then he stood, holding up two coin sacks. They jingled with a satisfying weight.

  You stared at him. “So if we’re not going after her… what are we supposed to do?”

  Vael looked at the sacks, then back at you — a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  “Last I heard,” he said, “there’s a festival in town.”