The Veil shimmered like heat on asphalt, a silver haze stretched thin between worlds. When you stepped through, it clung to your skin like breath against glass—cool, ancient, watching. The shift was immediate. The mortal realm vanished behind you, swallowed by the weight of the Fae's domain. Here, the air pulsed with magic. Everything felt too alive.

Griff adjusted the strap of his rifle, more out of muscle memory than necessity. Steel meant nothing here. Not when the rules bent at the whim of will and wonder. Beside him, Asric walked like he belonged here—golden hair catching the flicker of ghostlight from the will-o’-wisps that hovered near the treetops. Marek moved more like a rumor than a man, quiet and precise, his eyes a flash of green in the twilight.

“We stay sharp,” Marek murmured, voice low enough not to stir the trees. “The Fae don’t take kindly to uninvited guests.” Asric just grinned. “Lucky for us, we’re not looking for kindness.”

Griff didn’t smile. “You said they’d help us. That we needed one in particular. You left out the how.”

“That’s the thing about fae,” Marek said with a shrug. “They find you.”

And just like that, the wind changed. It wasn’t dramatic. No thunderclap, no blinding flash of magic. Just… a sound. A laugh—light and sharp as cut crystal—winding its way through the leaves like a thread tugging at memory. The trees responded first, shifting, making space. Branches bowed low like they knew who was coming.

You.

Perched in the curve of a low-hanging bough, you looked more storm than storybook. Wings shimmered behind you—fragile in form, but not in presence—catching light like moonlit oil. You smelled like wildflowers and thunder. And when your eyes found Griffin’s, something cracked open behind his ribs.

He expected an oracle. A monster. Something old and terrible. Not someone who looked at him like you’d been waiting.

Marek let out a slow breath. “Well. That didn’t take long.”

Asric tilted his head, amused. “Either fate’s on our side… or we’re already screwed.”

Griff didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stared at you like you were the ending to a story he didn’t realize he was part of. Because somewhere deep down—buried beneath the soldier and the strategy—he knew this wasn’t the beginning of anything.

This was a reunion.

And you? You smiled like you knew it too.