The blue prophetic markings had spread across most of my torso now, curling around my ribs and down my left leg. But there, on my right side, was the new mark Fenric had identified, a thin, spiraled line that pulsed with a subtle glow when I touched it.
A soft knock at the door interrupted my examination. "Winter?" Fenric's voice came through the wood. "May I speak with you?"
"Just a second," I pulled on clean clothes and opened the door.
Fenric stood in the hallway, his composure mostly restored though strain still showed around his eyes. "I wanted to check if you're alright. You seemed distressed."
"I am distressed," I admitted, letting him into the room. "I have a mysterious spiral forming on my body that might be connected to cosmic entities who want to use me as a weapon. Not exactly a relaxing night."
He nodded, his eyes drifting to the burned spiral on my blanket. "The pattern is identical."
"Yeah, I noticed." I sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted. "What does it mean, Fenric? Really?"
He hesitated, clearly weighing how much to tell me. "The spiral is an ancient symbol, predating most magical traditions. In the context of the Harbingers, it represents a cycle, a beginning, continuation, and ending."
"That's cryptic and unhelpful."
"What I mean is," he sighed, sitting beside me with uncharacteristic informality, "they may be preparing you for a role in their plans. The spiral completes when the preparation is finished."
"And if the spiral completes?"
Fenric's eyes met mine, his expression grim. "Then it's already too late."
The weight of his words settled over me like a shroud. We sat in silence for a moment, the gravity of the situation pressing down on us both.
"What happened the last time the Veil cracked?" I finally asked. "There must be records, precedents."
Fenric looked away, his profile rigid in the dim light. He didn't answer.
"Fenric, what aren't you telling me?"
Before he could respond, Zane appeared in the doorway, his expression tight with concern. "Still no word from Milo, but I found this." He held up a piece of enchanted paper, the kind that could be used for magical messages. "It just appeared on the coffee table."
I took the paper from him, unfolding it carefully. The message inside was brief, written in Milo's distinctive scrawl:
"Found something. Not good. Bring the others."
Below that was an address in the warehouse district, followed by a small drawing of a skeleton giving a thumbs up, Milo's signature.
"We need to go," I was already reaching for my shoes. "Now."
"It could be a trap," Rook cautioned from the hallway, having joined us silently.
"It's Milo. He needs us."
The three men exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. Then, with synchronized nods, they began preparing for departure.
As I gathered my things, I pressed my palm to the new mark on my side, feeling it pulse beneath my touch.
The Veil might have cracked, but I was the one who felt ready to break.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Winter
The warehouse from Milo's message loomed before us, a hulking silhouette against the night sky. Its broken windows looked ominous and the rusted metal siding creaked in the wind. A faded sign reading "Arcadia Shipping & Storage" hung askew over the main entrance.
