Rael felt the pull of the Rift before he even moved. The world around him hummed, faintly but unmistakably, as if responding to the pulse in his wrist. The mark burned—a silent command, a reminder of a past he still could not name. His friends watched him, unsure, tense, waiting for the next impossible thing to happen.
Azrael stood in the center of the Hall, wings half-unfurled, the glow of his eyes dimming to a deep, unsettling gold. He pointed to the widening tear in the air—thin like a crack in glass, shimmering like a reflection of something that shouldn't exist.
"The Rift has answered him," Azrael said. "And when it answers, one must listen."
Nyx crossed his arms. "I hate when you say stuff like that. It never means anything good."
Seraphine didn't speak. Her gaze was fixed on Rael—worried, steady, unwilling to look away even for a heartbeat. Aiden stood at her side, sword in hand, though even he didn't seem sure what an ordinary blade could do against whatever was forming in the air.
Rael swallowed hard. "What's on the other side?"
Azrael turned toward him, expression unreadable. "Memory. Truth. And the Keeper who has waited far too long."
The Keeper. The name alone made Rael's pulse spike, as if his body recognized something his mind couldn't.
"Why me?" Rael asked, voice low.
"Because you are the only one the Veil will not reject," Azrael said. "Chaos runs through you. And the Veil recognizes its own."
The tear in reality doubled in size. Threads of silver light spiraled outward, twisting like slow-moving currents. The hall grew quieter, as if the world itself held its breath.
Nyx groaned. "Don't tell me this is another 'Rael goes alone' mission."
Azrael didn't bother answering. He simply gave Rael a single, heavy look—the kind that carried the weight of centuries.
Seraphine stepped forward. "Rael… You don't need to do this alone. We can find another way."
There it was again—the warmth in her voice, the softness she tried to hide behind layers of discipline and duty. Rael felt it sink into him, almost painfully.
"I have to," he said. "If this Keeper knows who I was… what I did… then I need to hear it from them."
"And what if knowing destroys you?" she asked.
Rael managed a small, bitter smile. "Not knowing is already destroying me."
Aiden placed a hand on Seraphine's shoulder, steadying her. "Let him go," he said softly. "He'll come back."
He said it like a promise. Rael wished he could believe it.
Azrael lifted one hand. "Prepare yourself, Rael. The Veil shows truths without mercy."
Rael adjusted the gloves on his hands, though he wasn't sure why. It wasn't like fabric could protect him from whatever waited beyond the Rift.
"All right," he said. "Open it."
Azrael stepped back. The tear widened again—slowly at first, then suddenly, expanding into a tall, curved arch. Silver mist poured through its edges, swirling in gentle waves. The pull intensified. Rael felt it tug at his chest, like an invisible force urging him forward.
Seraphine's voice cracked. "Rael. Promise me you'll be careful."
He turned to her. For a moment, he forgot about the Rift, the Keeper, the pain gnawing inside him. He saw only her—worried, strong, terrified of losing him.
"I promise," he said.
It wasn't enough. He knew it. But it was all he could offer.
With a slow exhale, Rael stepped forward. The pull strengthened. The air around the arch shimmered, vibrating softly. Nyx shouted his name—Aiden, too—but their voices sounded distant, warped.
The last thing he saw before the Rift swallowed him was Seraphine reaching for him.
Then everything vanished.
---
Rael landed on solid ground—though "landed" was generous. It was more like the world assembled beneath him just in time to catch him. He staggered, dropping to one knee, bracing himself on unfamiliar terrain.
When he looked up, he found himself surrounded by endless white sand that stretched far in all directions. Above him, the sky glowed with swirling violet patterns, shifting in slow, hypnotic motions. The air carried no wind, no scent—only a quiet stillness that felt both peaceful and unnerving.
"This… is the Veil?" Rael whispered.
A faint voice answered behind him. "Not the entirety of it. Only the place you were meant to reach."
Rael turned.
A figure approached across the white sands—tall, robed in silver fabric that shimmered under the violet sky. Their face was hidden beneath a hood, their steps leaving no imprint on the ground.
Rael's heartbeat quickened. "You're the Keeper?"
The figure halted a few meters away. "I am the last of them. The only one who survived your fall."
Rael's breath caught.
"My… fall?"
The Keeper lifted their head slightly. A pair of blue, luminescent eyes glowed beneath the hood—ancient and sorrowful.
"You destroyed the others," the Keeper said gently. "But you did not do it in hatred. You did it in mourning."
Something in Rael's chest twisted violently.
"Mourning… for who?"
The Keeper stepped closer, slow and deliberate. "For the woman whose death shattered you."
Rael froze.
A sound—half breath, half panic—escaped him.
He shook his head. "No. No, I don't— I don't remember anyone."
"That is because you locked the memory away," the Keeper said. "You tore it from your own soul so that you could continue living."
Rael staggered back. "I wouldn't do that."
"You would," the Keeper said softly. "Because you loved her so deeply that her loss could have destroyed the world."
Rael's vision blurred. A faint laugh—warm, familiar—echoed in his mind. A hand brushing his cheek. A whisper of his name. He clutched his head, teeth gritted.
"What was her name?" he gasped.
The Keeper lifted one trembling hand. "You sealed even that."
Rael's eyes burned. His pulse thundered in his ears. "Tell me."
The Keeper's voice trembled with old grief. "I cannot. Only you can unlock what you buried."
Rael dropped to his knees, overwhelmed by a wave of emotion so intense it nearly crushed him.
The Keeper knelt beside him. "You were not a monster, Rael. You were a man grieving the impossible. And the day the world broke was the day you did."
A single tear fell from Rael's face, hitting the white sand. It didn't soak in. It simply rested there, glimmering like a tiny crystal.
The Keeper placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Stand, Rael. You have survived this long without your truth. Now you must face it."
Rael forced himself up, though his legs trembled.
"What do I do?"
The Keeper slowly extended their hand.
"Come with me," they said. "It is time you see the memory you feared most."
Rael stared at the offered hand.
Shaking.
Burning.
Uncertain.
But he took it.
And the sands around them began to dissolve.