The wind screamed through the trees like a chorus of mourning spirits.
Aelira stood at the edge of the ritual site, her boots sinking into the damp earth. The crescent moon bled behind clouds, casting an eerie silver over the ruined altar that once marked the center of Saelwyn's death.
She had returned—fully awake now.
The memories were no longer whispers. They were thunder, ripping through her mind in flashes: the chant of her sisters-turned-traitors, the searing heat of betrayal, and Kaeln's trembling voice when he said the words that killed her.
She wasn't the same frightened girl who had once screamed against the flames.
Now, she was flame itself.
"Don't do this alone," Kaeln's voice called from behind her.
Aelira didn't turn. "You mean again?"
His silence was a bitter confirmation. He stepped forward anyway, the crunch of leaves betraying his hesitation.
"I was wrong. I know that now," he said. "But Vyra is still out there. She's using the others—Nessa, even Elandor. We don't know how deep her power runs."
"She's not the only one who changed, Kaeln," Aelira murmured. "You think I came here to be a victim again?"
Kaeln tensed. "No."
"Good." Aelira raised her hand.
A pulse of heat rippled out from her palm. The air shimmered, and the sigils carved into the altar flared to life, lines of crimson, gold, and blue snaking into the dirt like veins.
She was rewriting the circle—not to summon, but to seal.
Behind her, Kaeln watched in silence. He had seen Saelwyn do this once—create her own magic from raw spirit, unconstrained by coven law. It was the very reason Vyra had marked her for death.
And now, it was happening again.
Except this time, Saelwyn wouldn't burn.
---
The forest groaned as power rippled through its roots. From the shadows, a figure stepped forward.
Nessa.
Her face was pale, streaked with tears, but her eyes were wrong—clouded, flickering with Vyra's gold. Aelira stiffened.
"She's inside you," she said coldly.
Nessa gave a twisted smile. "She never left. She just waited until the right door opened."
Kaeln stepped protectively in front of Aelira, but she pushed past him.
"I'm not afraid of her anymore."
Nessa raised a hand, and wind howled around them. Ghostly shapes formed—half-seen witches from the old coven, pulled from the Veil like puppets.
"Then prove it, Saelwyn," Vyra's voice rang through Nessa's mouth. "Let us see if the fire remembers who you are."
---
Aelira moved forward, arms wide.
The circle at her feet glowed with ancient light, brighter with each step she took. She didn't flinch when the first shadow lunged. She reached toward it, not with fear—but with flame.
The specter hissed as her fire consumed it.
"You think fire scares me now?" Aelira whispered.
"Careful," Vyra said through Nessa, voice tight. "The Veil doesn't forgive arrogance."
"I'm not asking it to forgive anything."
Aelira turned her gaze on Kaeln. "Not even him."
Kaeln flinched but stood his ground.
"You may not forgive me," he said, voice cracking, "but I'll fight for you anyway."
Aelira's voice dropped. "Then prove it."
Together, they stepped into the center of the ritual site—side by side, surrounded by summoned spirits and the flickering wrath of Vyra's presence.
But for the first time in two lifetimes, Saelwyn and Kaeln were not enemies.
Aelira's body burned—but not from pain.
Magic surged beneath her skin like a second heartbeat, responding to her rage, her memories, her name.
Saelwyn.
The spirits lunged again. Kaeln raised his blade, slicing through a wraith as it screamed—but it reformed seconds later. They weren't just memories. They were tethered.
"These aren't just spirits," Kaeln growled. "They're being fed by something."
"By someone," Aelira corrected.
Her eyes turned to Nessa—no, to Vyra, wearing Nessa like a mask. The High Priestess smiled with cruel satisfaction.
"You should thank me, girl. Without me, you'd still be stumbling through visions like a blind fawn."
"You tried to kill me."
"I tried to stop you. You're not meant to open the Veil. You were never meant to come back."
The wind howled louder. The trees bent as if bowing before Vyra's voice.
And then, the twist came like a crack of thunder.
From the woods behind them stepped Elandor—bloodied, limping… and smiling.
Aelira froze. "Elandor?"
Kaeln tensed instantly. "Something's wrong."
Elandor's eyes gleamed—not blue, but gold.
"No," Aelira whispered. "No, no, you—"
He bowed his head, mockingly. "I was the first soul she tethered. Long before Nessa. Long before you ever remembered who you were."
Kaeln drew his blade again. "You're possessed?"
Elandor chuckled. "Possessed? No. I chose this."
Aelira's heart shattered like glass.
"You… you were there for me," she whispered. "You helped me."
"I kept you close," he admitted. "Because I knew you'd wake up eventually. And when you did… I needed to be there to guide the blade."
Kaeln lunged.
Elandor raised a hand—and Kaeln was thrown back by a wave of golden light.
The Veil shimmered behind him now, visible to all, flickering like a wound in the air.
Aelira's voice shook with disbelief. "You loved me…"
"I loved Saelwyn," he said, suddenly cold. "But you were never her again. You became something else. Something dangerous."
Vyra's voice poured through both Elandor and Nessa now. "Do you see, child? Even the ones who claimed to love you cannot be trusted."
Aelira stood frozen—betrayed all over again.
But this time, she didn't shatter.
Her flames rose, not in anger, but in clarity. She stepped into the center of the ritual circle. Her voice echoed with ancient power.
"You want to bind me again? Go ahead and try. But I'm not the same witch you burned."
The fire that erupted from her palm was not ordinary—it was Veilfire, drawn from the crack Elandor had accidentally opened.
It struck the altar, breaking the summoned spirits' tether.
Nessa screamed, collapsing as Vyra's presence was torn from her body. Elandor staggered, golden light spilling from his mouth and eyes.
"Stop!" he shouted, clutching his head.
Aelira's power surged.
"You used my grief," she said. "You used my weakness. But I remember now. All of it."
The circle exploded in light.
Kaeln struggled to rise as the air turned to molten energy.
Elandor fell to his knees. "You're going to kill us all—"
"No," Aelira said calmly. "I'm going to free us."
With a single whispered word—"Unbind."—the sigil on her back ignited, bright as a second sun.
The Veil shrieked.
Vyra's scream tore through the forest.
And Elandor collapsed.
His body lay still.
---
Silence.
Smoke drifted upward, carrying the last of Vyra's power into the sky.
Kaeln crawled to his feet, coughing. "Aelira?"
She stood in the center of the ruins, hair drifting like smoke, her violet eyes glowing—but her expression was calm. Not victorious. Not vengeful.
Just… done.
Kaeln limped toward her. "Is it over?"
"No," she said softly, turning to look at Elandor's body. "We still don't know why Vyra did all this. And we haven't seen the last of what's behind the Veil."
A beat passed.
Then she added, "But this part? Yes. This is over."