The temple bells rang long before dawn.
Not in alarm.
In warning.
Ashen was already at the top of the stairs when I arrived. Her cloak was soaked with dew, her face lit by the eerie red glow pulsing across the eastern horizon.
It wasn't fire.
It was the veil.
Tearing.
Lucas came up behind me, his breath sharp. "It's earlier than we thought."
Ashara ran, scrolls clutched to her chest. "The leyline is moving. I tried to map it, but it " she stopped, wide-eyed, "it's changing shape. Like it's bending around something that hasn't arrived yet."
Ashen turned toward the horizon. "It's coming through."
I asked, "What is?"
She didn't answer with words.
She pointed.
And we all saw it.
A figure at the edge of the broken light. Cloaked in shadow. Surrounded by a glow that wasn't fire but something colder, older. Like frost made of memory.
My son stood in the doorway, barefoot, eyes already glowing.
He said one word.
"Name."
Ashen stepped back. "He's speaking to it."
