Chapter 19: The Gathering Storm
The sky above Arcanwyn had darkened unnaturally, thick clouds swirling in an eerie silence. No birds sang, no wind rustled through the trees. The world seemed to be holding its breath. Something ancient was stirring—something that had waited centuries to awaken.
In the courtyard, the students stood in formation, every face taut with fear and determination. Professor Thorne moved among them, her dark cloak billowing like smoke, her voice calm as she issued final commands.
Lila stood near the front, her palms tingling with Veil energy. The magic inside her buzzed, impatient and electric. She tried to control it, but it surged with each heartbeat, as though it sensed the chaos to come.
"You'll be stationed with me," Thorne said as she approached. "The Wraithborn will come through the rift near the Hollow Gate. That's our first strike point."
"What if they overwhelm us?" Niall asked from beside Lila.
"They won't," Thorne said simply, but her eyes told a different story—one Lila didn't miss. Doubt. Worry. Even fear.
Moments later, the air shimmered. A low hum pulsed through the stones of the academy. Then the first rip appeared.
A jagged tear in reality split open at the edge of the Hollow Gate, and from it spilled smoke, shadows—and the Wraithborn.
Their forms were ghostly and shifting, eyes glowing faintly from the gloom of their cloaks. They made no sound, but their presence screamed. The students stiffened.
"Form up!" Thorne shouted. "Shields!"
The air crackled as magical barriers rose in unison. Lila held her hands up, summoning the Veil, letting it wrap around her like armor. This time, the darkness didn't claw at her. It moved with her.
And then the Wraithborn charged.
The clash was sudden, brutal, and chaotic.
Magic flared across the courtyard—light against shadow, fire against ice. Students fought with everything they had, casting spells, shielding one another, holding their ground. But the Wraithborn were fast. They weaved through attacks, their claws slashing, their shrieks sending ripples through the magical barriers.
Lila moved like instinct. Her body flowed with the Veil's energy, dodging and striking, shadow wrapping around her like a second skin. She reached into the darkness, pulling it toward her—and with it, power.
A Wraithborn lunged toward her. She extended her hand and released a pulse of shadow. It exploded on contact, sending the creature flying back.
She barely had time to breathe before another one closed in.
"They're endless!" someone shouted.
But Lila didn't stop. The magic coursed through her, wild and dangerous—but hers.
From the center of the rift, a larger figure emerged. Unlike the others, it had form—solid, regal, terrifying. Its eyes were silver flames.
Thorne froze. "That's not just a Wraithborn," she whispered. "That's one of the Forgotten Kings."
Lila felt her pulse stutter. The Forgotten Kings—ancient rulers consumed by Veil corruption, lost to history. She'd read about them in Arcanwyn's forbidden texts. They weren't supposed to exist anymore.
The King raised his hand, and with a single gesture, shattered half the protective wards around the courtyard. Screams followed.
"Fall back!" Thorne yelled. "Regroup at the inner gates!"
But Lila didn't move.
The King's eyes met hers. A strange sensation passed through her—a flicker of recognition.
And then he spoke.
"Child of the Veil... you belong to us."