The skies weren't quiet anymore.
Clouds drifted like torn veils above the scorched ranges of Mornhal, casting trembling shadows over the earth. Wind howled through old battlefields, echoing the names of the fallen — not out of memory, but as warning.
Shadow walked alone, his obsidian cloak trailing over ash and ruin. Each step felt heavier now — not from burden, but from clarity. The Mirrorlands had taken something from him. Or perhaps they had returned something.
A flicker in the sky.
He stopped.
Looked up.
Wings.
Not angelic. Not demonic. Something else.
Seven of them.
Not descending, not attacking — just watching.
He narrowed his eyes. "You're late."
From the sky, a single figure dove. Landed hard — but not recklessly.
She stood tall, clad in robes woven from starfire and glass. Her face was hidden, but her voice was unmistakably mortal.
"We did not interfere," she said, "because you had to break the chains yourself."
Shadow turned fully to her. "Chains forged in betrayal. In blood. That's your excuse?"
"No. That's your truth. We come now because the world changes. And you, Shadow… you change with it."
Behind her, the other six landed in a silent circle — sentinels of light, but not of heaven. Not anymore.
"We are the Veiled Wings," she said. "And we are not your enemies."
"You watched me kill gods," Shadow replied. "Watched me burn their cities."
"Yes," she said. "And still we come. Because something is rising — older than light, darker than you."
A pause.
He didn't laugh. He didn't flinch.
Just stared into the wind.
"What is it?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Then: "A truth buried too deep. A throne forgotten by both realms. We thought it would never wake."
Shadow took a step forward. "Why come to me?"
"Because you already sit on a throne built on ruin. You understand what the rest fear: power has a cost."
"And what do you want?"
"Not alliance. Not friendship. Just awareness. When the Forgotten One wakes… none of us will matter if we're divided."
Shadow turned away.
The wind shifted.
Then, almost too quiet to hear: "I don't fight for peace."
"We know," she said. "But maybe, this time, you'll fight for purpose."
The wings vanished.
The sky closed.
And Shadow was alone again — but not unwatched.
He moved forward. Not faster. Not slower.
Only forward.
Toward the whispers on the wind. Toward the throne beneath the world.