Chapter 19 Beyond The Veil

The dark isn’t just absence—it’s a weight, a pulse, a living thing that presses against me from all sides. I wake to it, my head throbbing, my body heavy like it’s been dragged through mud. My hands grope blindly, finding cold, slick stone beneath me, the air damp and thick with a stench of decay that makes my stomach churn. The shadows are here, mine and not mine, coiling around me, but they feel different—wilder, hungrier, like they’re slipping from my grasp. Where am I? The question claws at me, sharp and desperate, but there’s no answer, just the echo of my own ragged breathing. The last thing I remember is the circle, Morgan’s hands on me, his voice—Fight it—and then the rift, the figure, the pull that swallowed me whole. My chest tightens, a ache for him, for the pack, but I shove it down. Panic won’t help. I need to move.