The mist clung to the trees like a shroud, thick and silver, whispering secrets in tongues Elira could almost understand. She moved through the forest with practiced grace, her basket filled with wolfsbane and stormroot, careful not to step on the gnarled roots that veined the forest floor.
They said the Veil grew thin during full moons like this one.
She scoffed at the thought, brushing a wet lock of hair from her brow. Tales for children. The Veil was a myth, a relic of stories her grandmother used to murmur before sleep. A world of shadows and stars, of beasts and gods.
Until she heard the cry.
It wasn't human—not quite. It cut through the silence like torn silk. Low, guttural, and raw.
Elira froze. Then, basket forgotten, she ran toward the sound.
She found him lying at the river's edge, half-submerged in the black water, as though the forest itself had spat him out. His skin was marbled with silver veins that pulsed faintly under the moonlight. Armor, cracked and ancient-looking, clung to him like a second skin. And his eyes—when they fluttered open—glowed briefly with a pale, unnatural blue.
He whispered a word, hoarse and foreign. Something that sounded like "Astrael."
Then he collapsed.
And Elira's life unraveled with him.
Elira knelt by his side, heart pounding. The man—if he was a man—was barely breathing. His skin, unnaturally cold, shimmered faintly where the moonlight touched it, and his silvery veins pulsed with an eerie rhythm, like the beat of a distant war drum.
"Hold on," she whispered, brushing wet hair from his face. He was handsome—almost too perfect—with sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a faint scar over his left brow. But the beauty was otherworldly, edged with danger.
A broken sword was strapped to his back, the hilt etched with runes she didn't recognize—glowing faintly, like his veins.
The stories came rushing back to her.
Guardians of the Veil. The Moonborn. Fallen protectors.
No. Those were just bedtime tales.
And yet, here he was.
Elira tore her cloak free and wrapped it around him. Her fingers trembled—not from fear, but from something else. A pull. A strange, magnetic hum in the air that made her skin prickle and her breath catch.
She dragged him through the underbrush, every step a battle against roots and slick moss. He groaned once, muttered that strange word again—"Astrael"—then fell silent.
Her cottage stood at the forest's edge, just beyond the standing stones. Old and crooked, with ivy crawling up its sides, it had been her home since she was fifteen. She hauled him inside, lit a fire, and laid him on her herbal table.
All the while, her mind raced.
Who was he? What was he?
She pulled off the shattered armor carefully—it steamed as it touched the cool air. Underneath, his body was covered in thin scars that shimmered like starlight. His heartbeat was steady now, but his skin was still unnaturally pale.
Elira mixed a salve of fireroot and amber bark, smearing it gently over the wounds. As she worked, he stirred.
"I know you," he murmured, voice like wind through ancient leaves.
She froze.
His eyes fluttered open, blazing for a moment with that celestial blue. Then they softened, focused on her.
"You're... Elira."
She stepped back, blood draining from her face. "How do you know my name?"
He blinked slowly, confused. "You're the tether. The one the stars whispered about."
"The stars? What—" she shook her head. "No. No, I'm just a healer. You hit your head, clearly."
He tried to sit up, groaning. "I was sent to find you. To stop the Sundering."
"What are you talking about?"
He looked around the cottage, breathing heavy. "The Veil is breaking. I don't have much time."
And then, before she could press him for answers, he collapsed again—his body glowing faintly, as though some magic inside him had slipped out of control.
Elira stood over him, heart pounding, caught between fear and awe.
She had always dreamed of something more—of the stories her grandmother used to whisper. But now, as they began to come true, Elira realized the truth wasn't as beautiful as she imagined.
It was dangerous.
And it was just beginning.