Two days after the fall of Valemarch, Grace and Rune stood once again before the shimring portal to the Magik Realm.
The difference this ti was almost laughable.
Last ti they had been cautious, cloaking their presence, sneaking between worlds like thieves afraid of being caught. Now, Grace stood tall, her aura a shimring storm of power so vast it made the very fabric of the portal ripple in response. Her dragon circled high above, guarding the skies of Starfall until her return. In the outside world, hours would pass. Here, in the Magik Realm, they had all the ti they needed.
Rune offered his hand without a word. Grace took it.
And together, they stepped through.
The air changed imdiately—thicker, charged with ancient magic, yet sohow lighter at the sa ti. The ground beneath their feet was a carpet of living light, and towering crystalline trees rose into a velvet sky, where twin moons bathed the world in silver glow.
Guards awaited them this ti—half a dozen warriors clad in gleaming armor that shimred like starlight. They wore long, flowing cloaks embroidered with sigils of power and bore long, sleek polearms at their sides. Yet none of them moved to attack.
Instead, they bowed.
"Rune Elisar," one of them said, voice respectful but firm. "The High Lord has been inford of your return. You are to be escorted directly to the Citadel."
Grace tilted her head slightly, studying the warriors. No hostility. Just protocol. Rune had been right—there was no imdiate threat. Still, her instincts stayed sharp.
Rune gave a short nod. "Lead the way."
As they walked, Grace fell into step beside him, speaking softly, "They recognized you."
Rune's mouth twitched into sothing like a smile. "I spent a lot of ti here before… everything went wrong. I was considered one of their honored guests. Until the Veil began to tear, and my team disappeared."
Grace squeezed his hand gently. She didn't need him to explain. She could feel the lingering ache in him, like a scar stitched into his very soul. And she was going to heal it—starting with the Veil.
They entered the city soon after—a magnificent sprawl of towers made from living crystal, glowing softly from within. Magic flowed through the streets like water, powering lights, vehicles, and even weaving gentle music into the air. It was a world built on wonder.
And now, they were heading for its heart.
The Citadel lood before them, a fortress and palace combined, crowned by a massive spire that seed to touch the heavens themselves. Its gates parted soundlessly as they approached, and soon they were standing in a great hall lined with ancient murals, depicting the rise of the Magik Realm.
At the far end of the hall sat the High Lord.
He rose to his feet as they entered, a tall, imposing figure wrapped in flowing robes of midnight blue and silver. His hair was pale gold, braided with runes, and his eyes glowed faintly with internal magic. Power radiated from him—but it was a quiet, controlled strength, like a deep river.
"Rune Elisar," the High Lord said, his voice resonating with the very air. "And you…" His gaze shifted to Grace. "…You are new. And powerful."
Grace inclined her head respectfully but didn't bow. She didn't need to. Not anymore.
"My na is Grace Blackthorn," she said. "And I co with purpose."
The High Lord's lips quirked in amusent. "So I can feel."
But before Grace could speak further, Rune stepped forward. His voice was steady but filled with old weight. "High Lord Vaelen, I owe you an explanation."
The hall quieted, the guards standing even straighter at attention.
Rune spoke of his mission long ago—the team sent to investigate the weakening Veil, the betrayal that shattered their ranks, the corruption that bled into their world from the rift. He spoke of his survival, his retreat, his sha. And finally, of Grace—how she had found him, saved him, and fought to bring him back.
When he finished, silence reigned.
The High Lord's expression was unreadable, but his eyes softened slightly. "You carry no bla, Rune Elisar. You were abandoned. And yet, you stand here, redeed by your own path." His gaze shifted once more to Grace. "And by her."
Grace stepped forward now, her voice firm. "High Lord Vaelen, I seek the second half of the Codex of Aeryth—the book that holds the knowledge needed to heal the Veil."
Murmurs stirred among the guards, but the High Lord raised a hand for silence.
Grace continued, "If you know where it is, or if you can offer any knowledge, any clue—I ask for it. In return, I offer my strength. One boon, one mission of your choosing, as long as it does not contradict my beliefs."
High Lord Vaelen regarded her for a long mont.
"You are bold."
"I have to be," Grace said simply.
"Many would have hidden their power. Cloaked themselves in humility."
"I'm not many."
The High Lord smiled faintly at that, the expression both amused and approving. He descended the steps of the dais, coming to stand before her.
"You have grown beyond this galaxy, Grace Blackthorn. You are a monarch of stars." His eyes sharpened. "But even monarchs must tread carefully when dealing with forces as ancient as the Veil."
"I intend to," she said.
Vaelen clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly, his voice carrying across the hall. "The second half of the Codex was lost during the last Great Fracture. Rumors say it was hidden within the Veil itself, bound to a dying world."
Grace frowned. "A dying world?"
Vaelen nodded. "A world infected beyond saving. A world abandoned by both its people and its gods. It lies deep within the Shadow Sector—a realm of broken planets and devouring beasts."
Rune tensed beside her.
Grace's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And what do you require in exchange for helping us find it?"
The High Lord turned, his gaze piercing. "There is an ancient relic—a Heartstone—that once anchored the Magik Realm's core defenses. It was lost during the Fracture. Without it, our barriers weaken each century. Retrieve it, and I will grant you every resource, every map, every ounce of knowledge we possess regarding the Codex."
Grace didn't hesitate.
"I accept."
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