Lucien's question hung in the air like smoke.
What did you open?
Elara couldn't answer.
The silence between them was thick enough to feel heavy with the weight of what neither of them could yet name. The lamplight flickered, throwing soft gold over Lucien's face, carving shadows beneath his eyes. He looked almost human like this, almost gentle, if not for the faint violet light still threading through his veins.
She pushed herself up slowly, every muscle trembling. "Lucien," she whispered. "How did you—"
"—know?" He stepped forward, his voice low, controlled, but cracking at the edges. "I felt it. The light. The mirror. It wasn't just you down there."
Elara's pulse stuttered. "You saw it?"
"Not saw." His silver eyes met hers, sharp, unflinching. "I remembered it."
Her breath caught. "Remembered?"
He nodded once, his expression unreadable. "Like a memory buried too deep. The sound of the glass shattering. The light swallowing everything. You—" His voice faltered, then steadied. "You were there. Not now. Before."
Her heart tightened. He was remembering fragments of the old timeline, the one she had lived through, the one he was never meant to remember.
"I didn't open it," she said quickly, though the words rang hollow even to her ears. "It opened itself."
Lucien's gaze flicked to her hand. The mark glowed faintly beneath her skin, gold, silver, violet, pulsing in sync with the light beneath his collar. "You're lying," he said quietly. Not accusation, just truth. "Something called you."
Elara's throat constricted. "The voice. It said my name."
"The Veil," Lucien murmured. "It's reaching for us."
He moved closer until only a breath separated them. The air between them hummed, charged with the same resonance that had bound their magic together. Up close, she could see the subtle changes in him, the way his pupils were no longer round, but edged faintly with light; the way his aura flickered between brilliance and shadow, never still.
"You shouldn't have gone alone," he said.
"You would've followed," she countered.
He almost smiled, but it was brief, broken. "You're right."
The lamp flickered again — once, twice — then went out.
Darkness pressed close.
For a heartbeat, only the marks on their skin lit the room, twin sigils pulsing gold and violet like two hearts beating out of rhythm. Elara's breath hitched as the resonance swelled, their magic intertwining again, unwilling or unable to stay separate.
Lucien's voice broke the silence. "It's not just in me anymore, is it?"
She shook her head slowly. "No."
"The Veil's… bleeding." He said it like an understanding, not a fear. "And it's using us to do it."
Elara wanted to deny it, to insist there had to be another explanation, but the hum in her blood, the weight in the air, the echo of Dalen's dying words all said otherwise.
Two halves of a seal.
Two ends of a chain.
Lucien exhaled, the faintest tremor in his breath. "If Dalen was right, then when it breaks…"
She finished for him. "We break with it."
****
The dawn bells rang faintly through the fog outside.
Neither of them moved. The world felt suspended, the fragile moment between night and light where anything could shatter.
Elara finally stepped back, putting distance between them, forcing the space to breathe again. "We can't stay here. If the Council feels this energy, they'll know."
"They already do," Lucien said.
He turned toward the window. Outside, the fog over the courtyard glowed faintly violet. The magic wasn't just within them now, it was seeping through the walls, bleeding into the world.
Elara's stomach twisted. "Then we're out of time."
Lucien glanced over his shoulder, the faintest glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes, not fear, not anger, but an aching clarity. "You tried to save me once," he said softly. "Didn't you?"
The question hit like a blade.
She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
His gaze didn't waver. "You said you wanted to make things right. That's what you meant, isn't it? You've done this before."
Her silence was answer enough.
Lucien stepped closer, his voice breaking into a whisper. "Then tell me, Elara — in that other life, did you kill me before or after I became this?"
Her heart ached so sharply she almost doubled over. "It doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
The light between them flared once, a violent pulse that rattled the windowpanes. Then it died, leaving only the echo of their breathing.
"I don't want to be your second chance," Lucien said quietly. "I want to be my own."
He turned and walked out before she could stop him.
****
The door shut.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Elara sank to the floor, pressing her palms against her knees to keep them from shaking. The mark on her hand pulsed again, slower now, less like a heartbeat, more like a countdown.
She looked out the window. Across the courtyard, mist coiled between the towers like smoke. But beneath it, faint and steady, she could see movement, figures cloaked in silver and crimson, the Council's colours.
They were moving toward the library tower.
Dalen's mirror hadn't just broken.
It had summoned something.
And the world was already beginning to answer.