The descent into the Fabled Hollow stretched deeper than anything Aeryn had imagined. The crystalline roots spiraling along the walls shimmered with muted radiance, pulsing as if carrying the world's blood. The deeper he walked, the more the luminescent strands brightened, guiding him with an otherworldly glow.
The Silver Veil expanded before him like an ocean of floating dust, the pale particles drifting in the air like glass shattered into powder. Every inhale threatened to pull its coldness into his lungs. Even with the lantern's light, the mist swallowed most of his surroundings.
Aeryn slowed his breathing. His palms tingled. The System's latent presence hummed faintly beneath his consciousness, steady as a heartbeat.
He stepped forward.
A sharp tremor rippled through the Veil. The mist quivered like disturbed water. Threads of luminescent silver curled around him, shifting, twisting, aligning—forming patterns that resembled runes yet not truly runes.
They moved like living things.
Aeryn instinctively raised his hand, ether flowing by reflex. A thin sheet of mana wrapped his body as a defensive layer.
He waited.
The mist fluttered as if acknowledging him. A low resonance vibrated from the depths, like a whisper too soft to decipher.
Something stirs beyond the veil, the System remarked, its tone calm.
Aeryn stepped in deeper.
The ground softened under his boots, turning strangely moist. Then, without warning, the silver mist parted. A path revealed itself—narrow, winding, descending into an abyssal hollow.
Aeryn followed.
The air grew colder, heavier. A pressure—neither hostile nor welcoming—pressed upon his senses. Then he saw it: an ancient gate of root-wood and luminous crystal, half-buried in the cavern wall. The intertwined branches carved unfamiliar patterns, intricate enough to resemble language yet too fluid to be understood.
He pressed his palm against it.
The gate pulsed.
Mana surged from the wood into his skin, threading through his arm and straight into his core.
Before he could recoil, a voice echoed.
Not audible. Not mental. Something in between.
"You bear the mark of no clan, yet carry a resonance we have not felt in ages."
Aeryn stiffened. He stood alone, yet the presence felt close—uncomfortably so.
"Who's there?" His voice went steadier than he expected.
The gate responded with vibration, the glow intensifying until the patterns shifted.
Then the gate split open silently.
Cold wind rushed out, carrying a faint scent of forgotten forests. Aeryn braced himself and stepped through.
Inside was a cavern unlike anything in surface lore. Colossal roots formed arching bridges overhead, creating a dome where pale blue crystals grew like stars frozen mid-fall. At the center lay a lake—its waters still, reflecting like glass but with swirling silver light rippling beneath.
He approached.
The resonance of the System grew stronger. It didn't speak, but Aeryn felt its attention sharpen, focused on the waters ahead.
Another whisper drifted across the cavern.
"Your presence was foreseen."
Aeryn tensed again. The voice was feminine, ancient, and distant—yet undeniably aware of him.
"Show yourself," Aeryn said.
The lake shimmered. A figure emerged from within the reflection—not from the water itself, but from the mirrored world beneath it.
Slowly, a translucent form rose, shaped like an elf yet not quite. Her long hair flowed like liquid silver, her eyes pale azure. Her body seemed woven from light rather than flesh.
She hovered above the lake's surface.
Aeryn's hand tightened instinctively, ready to draw mana.
"You need not fear, wanderer," she said. "We have been waiting centuries for the bearer of the Silent Construct."
Aeryn froze. "Silent… Construct?"
Her gaze softened. "The entity within you. The mechanism beyond ether. The eye without form. The one you call… System."
Aeryn's breath stilled.
She knows.
He took a cautious step forward. "What are you?"
"I am Lytheriel," she replied. "Remnant of the First Veil. Last echo of the Glittering Kin. We existed long before the High Elves traced their first sigils in the soil above."
He felt the air shift with weight. She wasn't boasting. It was simply truth.
"Why were you waiting for me?"
Lytheriel didn't answer immediately. She drifted around him, her hand brushing near his shoulder—though it passed through like mist.
"You carry a fate that was never meant for this realm," she said. "Yet here you stand, woven into a tapestry that should not acknowledge your existence. That paradox alone stirs sleeping forces."
Aeryn narrowed his eyes. "Speak clearly."
She halted and faced him directly.
"You were not born of Elyndor. You originated beyond the Astral Shroud, beyond the world's cycle of rebirth."
Aeryn's pulse quickened—but he forced himself to remain calm. He had always suspected he was different, but hearing it spoken so plainly…
He exhaled slowly. "And the System?"
Lytheriel's expression dimmed, almost sorrowful. "The System is a relic of a forgotten civilization. A device once wielded by a race that no longer exists. It should never have merged with a soul. Yet it clings to you, shaping your path."
Her translucent hand reached toward the lake.
The waters responded, swirling into crystalline symbols that glowed beneath the surface.
"You have come to the Silver Veil seeking strength," she said. "And I will grant it to you—but knowledge is the true gift I offer."
Aeryn stepped closer. "Then tell me what I must know."
Lytheriel gestured toward the lake. "Look."
He obeyed, leaning over the shimmering surface.
The reflection changed.
He saw forests in flames—massive trees collapsing as claws of shadow tore through them. Cities of crystal shattering like glass. Legions of winged beasts roaring across a darkened sky. At the center stood a single figure cloaked in abyssal flames, raising a hand that split the land apart.
Aeryn shivered.
The vision shifted.
He saw another figure—an elf—standing on a floating root arch overlooking the ravaged world. His silhouette glowed with silver markings swirling like living runes. Power cascaded around him, bending the air.
Aeryn recognized the face.
Him.
Lytheriel's voice softened. "The future is tangled. Many threads lead to destruction. Many to salvation. You stand at a crossroad where even the gods cannot see clearly."
The reflection returned to stillness.
Aeryn closed his eyes briefly, steadying his breath. His heart trembled—not with fear, but with weight. Responsibility. Expectation.
He straightened.
"What must I do?"
Lytheriel smiled faintly. "You will not walk the correct path by following my instructions. But I will give you what all ancestors denied the present age…"
Her hand rose.
Silver light gathered at her fingertips, condensing into a small crystalline shard.
"…the right to choose your fate."
She pressed the shard toward his chest.
The moment it touched him, the System surged.
A cascade of messages flared through his mind.
He inhaled.
The cavern felt… different.
Alive.
Lytheriel watched him, her expression unreadable. "The Veil Domain will allow you to sense truths hidden beneath illusions, to hear what others cannot, to find what should remain unseen. But tread cautiously. Knowing too much invites dangers that have slept since the First Era."
Aeryn nodded. "I understand."
She drifted backward, her form starting to dim. "Our time wanes. The Veil cannot sustain me for long. But remember this, Aeryn Vaelorian—your existence defies the world's script. That is both your greatest weapon and the root of countless enemies."
Aeryn clenched his fists. "Then I'll grow strong enough to face all of them."
Lytheriel stopped fading for a moment. "You speak with resolve. Good. You will need it."
Just as her form dissolved entirely, she whispered one last thing.
"The shadows of Highvale move. Someone has already sensed your anomaly. Be wary of those who offer guidance with gentle smiles."
A chill swept his spine.
Then she vanished.
The cavern dimmed. The lake's glow subsided. The resonance of the Silver Veil Core settled into his chest like an ember awaiting breath.
Aeryn stood alone—but something fundamental had shifted within him.
He turned to leave.
But the moment he stepped toward the entrance, the silver mist trembled violently. A ripple surged through the cavern, shaking the crystalline roots.
Aeryn froze.
Another presence entered the Veil.
Soft footsteps echoed—quiet yet distinct.
A silhouette emerged in the drifting mist. Slender. Tall. Eerie.
A figure with long, flowing hair and a mask shaped like a crescent moon.
Aeryn raised his guard immediately.
The masked elf tilted his head.
"So it is true," he said calmly. "The Silver Veil recognized you."
Aeryn's heartbeat sharpened. "Who are you?"
The masked figure stepped forward, his voice smooth and unfathomably composed. "A seeker. A watcher. And perhaps, someday, an enemy."
Aeryn braced himself. Mana coiled around his fingers.
The masked elf extended a hand—not in attack, but as a greeting.
"I am Sereth. And I have been searching for you."
Aeryn didn't lower his guard.
The mist thickened around them, the cavern trembling once more.
The Veil whispered.
Their meeting was not coincidence.
It was inevitability.