Chapter 17
A Glimpse Beyond the Veil
They witness the true extent of the Shadow Weaver's influence, understanding the ancient war for balance that rages beneath the city's veneer.
The air in the abandoned observatory hung thick with the scent of dust and forgotten stars, a perfume of decay that clung to the velvet drapes and tarnished brass instruments. Moonlight, fractured by the grimy panes, painted skeletal patterns across the floor, a ghostly calligraphy of celestial pronouncements. I held Katja’s hand, her fingers cool against my own, a fragile anchor in the swirling currents of dread that had begun to coil around us. Mihail stood a few paces back, his usual pragmatic stance edged with a disquiet I rarely saw in him. He had brought us here, to this forgotten place, promising answers that I, in my burgeoning desperation, was willing to grasp at like a drowning man.
"It is here," Mihail murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to disturb the very stillness of the air. "Where the veil between worlds is thinnest. Where the Weaver's threads are most visible."
Katja squeezed my hand, her gaze fixed on the vast, star-dusted dome above. "Visible how?" she whispered, her voice barely disturbing the silence. Her eyes, usually so bright with life, held a flicker of apprehension, a nascent understanding of the true depth of the abyss we had dared to peer into.
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