The walk back to the village felt longer than it should have. The path twisted, shadows stretched, and every rustle of wind sounded like a voice calling her name. Chizzy kept her hand close to the hilt of the Blade of Oath, her mind racing.
Beside her, Kiran's silence spoke louder than words. He hadn't said a thing since they left the cliff, but his jaw was clenched, and his eyes darted to every shadow.
"They're waking," Chizzy finally said.
Kiran glanced at her. "What was that thing? That hand?"
She shook her head. "Something ancient. Something our ancestors trapped before this village ever had a name. And now, because of what's happened—because of me—it's starting to break free."
Kiran stopped. "No. Not because of you. They chose you, Chizzy. Whoever they were. Whatever the reason, it's not your fault."
She met his eyes, pain flickering in hers. "But it is my burden."
They resumed walking. As the village came into view, they found a crowd waiting. Torches flickered, casting orange halos around worried faces. Elder Noma stepped forward.
"We felt it," she said. "The earth trembled, the winds changed."
Chizzy nodded grimly. "The seal beneath the cliff is weakening."
Maku pushed through the crowd, eyes wild. "It's Talia—she's awake."
Chizzy's heart leapt. She rushed to the healer's hut with Kiran and Noma close behind.
Talia sat upright on the cot, pale and trembling but conscious. Her eyes locked onto Chizzy the moment she entered.
"They're inside," Talia whispered hoarsely. "Voices. I can hear them."
Chizzy knelt beside her, taking her hand. "Do they know who you are?"
Talia nodded slowly. "They call me the Half-Key."
Chizzy's breath caught. "Then they succeeded. They split the seal between us."
"Their plan," Talia rasped, "was to use us as anchors. If one of us falls, the gate tears open completely."
Elder Noma exhaled sharply. "Then we must ensure both of you survive."
Talia gripped Chizzy's hand tighter. "But I feel them… crawling inside me. If I lose control—"
"You won't," Chizzy said firmly. "I won't let you."
As night thickened over the village, the air grew heavier. Clouds swelled above, swallowing the moon. A storm was coming, and not just the kind that brought rain.
Back at the temple ruins, the villagers worked under Noma's guidance to draw protective wards in salt and ash. Fires were lit at each cardinal point. Chizzy stood at the center of the circle, the Blade of Oath in hand, as the ritual began.
She raised her voice over the wind. "I need to find the root of this. Not just fight what's coming, but understand it."
Noma approached with a satchel. "Then you must enter the Dreaming Vale. It's where the ancestors once walked to commune with the veil spirits. You'll need a guide."
"Who?"
A voice answered from behind them.
"I will."
It was Liora, the quiet herbalist with the glassy eyes. No one had ever paid her much attention—until now.
"You know the Vale?" Chizzy asked.
Liora nodded. "I've walked its edges. I can take you deeper—but there's a price."
"What kind?"
"A memory. One you cherish."
Chizzy hesitated. Her mother's lullaby… the warmth of her father's embrace… moments she clung to when everything felt lost.
But if it meant saving the village—saving Talia—it was a price she'd pay.
"Then take it," she said.
Liora stepped forward, her fingers brushing Chizzy's temple.
The memory slipped away like smoke.
And the storm began.