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Whispers Beneath the Veil

  The moonlight poured through the castle’s high, arched windows like cold silk. Vespera lay still, her breath steady but shallow. Her skin had regained a hint of color, but her mind was far from the present.

  She was dreaming.

  In the dream, the world looked brighter — warmer. She was small again, no older than seven. The courtyard smelled of jasmine and morning dew. And there they were.

  Her parents.

  Her mother’s silver hair blew gently in the wind, her laughter light and wild like a forest breeze. Her father, tall and silent, stood in the shadows… his crimson eyes hidden behind gentler ones back then.

  They didn’t speak. They just smiled at her. A perfect, fleeting memory.

  Until the sun above began to darken.

  And then — they faded.

  She reached for them, calling, begging them not to go. But the dream twisted. Their faces melted into smoke. The garden wilted.

  And something whispered her name.

  


  “Vespera…”

  She turned.

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  But woke up before she could see who said it.

  Yuvan sat beside her, shoulders heavy with grief, though he didn’t show it in his face. He wiped her brow with a cold cloth, never leaving her side.

  A soft knock echoed at the chamber’s door.

  An elegant woman entered, draped in velvet so deep it seemed woven from the night itself. Her skin was flawless, untouched by time. Yet her silver hair, eyes brimming with memories, told of a century lived and survived.

  


  “Lady Sylen,” Yuvan greeted with surprise. “The court physician?”

  


  “Visiting, yes. But drawn here… unexpectedly,” she said, her voice like a chime in a fog.

  She approached Vespera with reverence, placing a delicate hand over the strange symbol on her palm. Her fingers trembled for just a moment—barely noticeable.

  


  “You’ve crossed a threshold, child,” she whispered to the sleeping Vespera. “And something ancient walks behind you.”

  Keven paced the old archives below the castle, searching every scrap, scroll, and cursed record he could find. His eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights.

  He’d drawn the symbol on parchment, chasing leads that vanished into myth.

  And then he found it.

  A page half-burnt, buried in a volume no one touched.

  


  “The Mark of The Promised Blood.”

  “Those born of dual heritage shall be claimed by the Father of Eclipse, should their blood awaken.”

  Keven’s hand trembled.

  


  “Claimed…?”

  Something shifted behind him.

  A shadow.

  But when he turned—no one was there.

  He left the chamber, heart pounding, unaware of the eyes that followed from above.

  Vespera stirred again in her bed.

  Her eyes fluttered.

  Not fully awake.

  Not fully dreaming.

  She whispered something.

  Yuvan leaned closer. “What is it, Ves?”

  But what she said chilled him to the core.

  


  “He’s… watching me.”

  ~ Nyx Bloodthorn ??

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