The Silver Veil

The Silver Veil
Chapter 128

The sound of the bells faded into the wind.
No one spoke.

Even the air felt heavy and charged, the kind of silence that signified the calm before the storm.

Kael scanned the ridge. “They know we’ve crossed,” he muttered.

“Is that so?” Lucien’s hand brushed the hilt of his blade. “I don’t see why they're hiding, let them show themselves.”

“They won’t,” Kael said darkly. “They’ll simply wait. That's the way of the Moon-Blessed.”

The group advanced slowly, their boots crunching softly over the frozen path. The last of the plains were gone now. Here, the terrain rose in jagged cliffs, veiled in fog. The faint silver runes etched into the rocks pulsed like slow heartbeats, guiding them deeper into sacred ground.

Aria felt her mark stir, a pulse that matched the rhythm of her breaths. The closer they came, the warmer it grew, alive, warning… remembering.

“I think they’re watching us,” she whispered. “Right at this very moment.”

Kael didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He could already feel their stares on his back of his neck.

Lucien stopped suddenly, “Something’s wrong,” he said. His gaze flicking over the dark slopes. “It’s too quiet.”

Before Kael could form a reply, the first arrow struck.

It came from nowhere, whistling past Aria’s cheek, before slicing through the air and embedding itself into the ground. The shaft quivered, silver-tipped, cold light glinting off its fletching.

“Down!” Kael barked.

Another arrow hissed through the air, striking a rogue behind them in the thigh. The man went down with a cry. Chaos erupted. Everyone dropped behind rocks and boulders. The healer hit the ground beside Aria, trembling, clutching her pack.

“Shields up!” Lucien roared. The rogues raised what little defense they had, metal, leather, whatever could stop silver-tipped shafts.

Aria scanned the ridges, eyes narrowing. Movement. There. Shadows gliding along the higher ledges. Silent. Fast.

Kael looked up toward the cliffs. “They’ve taken the ledges!”

Lucien gritted his teeth. “Attackers?”

“Moon-Blessed sentinels,” Kael said grimly. “They’re trying to get us to turn back.”

A shrill whistle cut through the air, as three more arrows in perfect rhythm, struck within inches of where Lucien had crouched.

Lucien’s eyes blazed. “We've come to far, just to turn back because of some little arrows.”

He rose from behind the rocks, defiant, but Kael quickly yanked him down again. “Your head will be what they aim for next.” He hissed.

Aria pressed her hand over her chest. The rune beneath her palm burned hot now, reacting to the nearness of its kin. She could feel where they were: their positions, how they moved, every breath they took.

Her voice was low but certain. “They’re above us. Two on the left ridge. One on higher ground… archer’s perch.”

Kael shot her a sharp look. “You can sense them?”

She nodded. “They taught me how.”

Another arrow shot down, but this one Aria caught midair. The shaft burned against her palm, but she welcomed the sting. The Rune flared in silver light, pulsing with power.

Kael turned toward her. “Aria!” He hissed, “Don’t…”

She didn’t listen.

Something inside her had snapped. Before he could stop her, she was already moving, darting from the line of cover, sprinting across the ridge toward the nearest ledge.

“Aria!” Lucien’s shout followed, but she was already gone, slipping through the rocks like water.

She climbed, her fingers gripping the cold stone, boots sliding against the ice. The slope was steep, jagged, treacherous, but her body remembered these paths. The Moon-Blessed had taught her to fight here. To climb, to vanish, to strike from the shadows. Probably a mistake, because now, she was using every step they had once taught her.

Another arrow whizzed past, close enough to tear her sleeve, and graze her skin. She ignored the sting, moving faster, only following the pulse in her spine.

When she reached the ledge, she crouched low. Two figures knelt ahead, their faces hidden in their dark cloak, had their arrows notched.

Her boots slipped once on loose ice, but she caught herself in time, hauling herself up until her fingers hooked over the edge of the ledge.

The one in front exhaled, drawing the string to her cheek, held it there for a while, before loosing the arrow on her group below.

Then she lunged.

She hit the first archer hard, the impact knocking them both sideways. The second sentinel shouted something, too fast, too soft to catch, as Aria's momentum carried them over the edge.

The world flipped.

Rock. Snow. Wind.

They tumbled down the slope, locked together. Stone, ice, sky, everything was spinning. She clutched the other woman’s cloak, their bodies locked as they tumbled down the slope. Frost and dirt scraped her skin. The fall felt endless until they slammed into the ground below with a bone-rattling crash.

The impact knocking the air from her lungs. They rolled, dirt and frost scattering in a blur of motion, before finally coming to a stop.

For a moment, neither moved.

Aria groaned, pushing herself up. Her head rang, and her vision swam. Blood trickled down her temple. She shoved the other woman off her, staggering to her knees.

The attacker groaned, rolling onto her back with a gasp. Her hood falling away.

Aria froze.

Pale hair streaked with silver spilled over the snow. A thin scar cut across her jaw. Eyes like burnished gold, sharp, assessing, familiar in a way that twisted Aria’s stomach.

Aria’s breath caught. “Selene.”

The name escaped before she could stop it.

The woman blinked, dazed, then focused on her. Recognition flickered across her face, followed by something colder, harder. Her hand went to the dagger at her hip.

“…You,” Selene breathed.

Aria’s pulse thundered in her ears. Her fingers brushed her blade, but she didn’t draw it. 

Selene’s lips curved, a slow, dangerous smile.

Then she moved.