The Breath of the Veil

Kade sat cross-legged in the shade of the broad sycamore, its roots pushing up through the soft soil. The late afternoon sun painted shifting patterns on the ground, caught in the restless dance of the leaves overhead. The notebook rested in his lap, open to the same page it had been for hours. He had read the words a dozen times, no, at least twenty by now, and yet they didn’t dull, didn’t lose their startlement.

Flame of Change.

That was its name. His flame. His magic.

The words written on the rough parchment were sparse, almost careless in their brevity, and yet they revealed more than he had been ready to confront.

The fourth child.

He traced the letters with his fingertip as if by touching them he might unearth some hidden truth. The words mocked him with their mystery. A forgotten power. A boy not even born of this world, somehow inheriting it.

The memories of his other life pressed against him heavily. He could see them so clearly now: loneliness that stung, the sickbed that had been both cradle and coffin. That boy had been abandoned, pitiful and unwanted. That boy was him.

But he wasn’t only that.

He was also Kade Badania. This world had given him a name, a place, and a family. The pain of his other life had not vanished; it lived in him, raw and jagged, but he no longer tried to bury it. Pain was hard, yes, but it was also part of him. To deny it would be to deny himself.

A shadow stretched over him. Kade looked.

Galir.

He dropped down onto the grass without ceremony, the easy exhaustion of someone who had just finished training still clinging to him. His tunic stuck to his shoulders with sweat, and his red hair clung damp to his forehead, but his expression was as dry as ever. He leaned back on his elbows, glanced at the notebook, and arched a brow.

“You’ve been clutching that thing for days now,” Galir said, voice lined with sarcasm. “Is it really that hard to read through?”

Kade startled a little but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Galir’s humor was always like that, dry, cutting, yet never cruel. And it meant something that Galir was here, speaking to him at all. For so long, he hadn’t wanted Kade near.

“I’m not struggling to read it,” Kade said, snapping the notebook shut, more flustered than he intended. “Just… trying to make sense of the… oh… things.”

Galir hummed, unimpressed by the vagueness. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, stayed on him.

“Things,” he repeated, letting the word hang like bait.

“Yes, things,” Kade shot back, though his tone was evasive. He didn’t want to explain his flame to Galir who hated all magic.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, filled only by the whisper of wind through the leaves. Then Galir spoke again, more pointedly.

“For the Moon’s sake, I know you have magic. I won't bite your head for mentioning it.”

Kade’s head whipped toward him, startled. His chest tightened as if a string had been pulled taut inside him.

Galir didn’t look at him right away. His gaze was on the horizon. “And I know something more happened. Something beyond you connecting with Eurnar.”

His mouth went dry, the notebook slipped slightly in his hands. “What? How…”

Galir finally turned his head then, and his dry tone was back. “You are not subtle at all. It was pretty easy to read.”

Kade huffed indignantly. “No, I am not! You don’t even know that…” He cut himself short, teeth clamping down on the words before they could spill. Before he could say, That I’m not even from this world.

The guilt swelled sharply in his stomach. It had been easier to pretend before, when the memories of that other life were blurred. Now he knew too much, and lying to them felt like a weight dragging him under.

Galir’s eyes sharpened, catching the aborted words. He tilted his head, voice even. “That you’re not just Kade Badania?”

Kade froze. His heart lurched into his throat.

Before panic could take root, Galir snorted and leaned back, breaking the tension with one careless motion. “You say the wildest things all the time. Casually speaking of pasts that shouldn’t be possible. I’m sure Mother suspects it, and Hanel too. None of us cares to ask. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

The world seemed to still around Kade.

He looked down at the notebook, blinking quickly, trying to hide the sudden heat in his chest. Relief swelled through him, thick and overwhelming, and warmth spread where guilt had sat only moments ago.

Akalis had shown her care in her brusque, efficient way. Bilia, subdued but clingy, had not let him out of her sight lately. Their concern had meant more than words could hold. But Galir… Galir had once wanted nothing to do with him. For him to say this… to acknowledge him, to accept him… it made the words real.

He had made a life here.

His past belonged to him alone, and for the first time, that felt enough.

Kade smiled, not the small polite curve he had worn these past days, but something brighter, freer than he had managed in days.

The moment didn’t last.

Boots crunched against the grass, light and unhurried.

Ayen.

She strode toward them with the confidence of someone who owned every patch of earth her feet touched. Her bright brownish hair shone under sunlight, and her grin was mischievous, her entire presence loud even before she opened her mouth.

“Well, well, look at you two,” she drawled, hands on her hips. “Bonding under a tree. How touching.”

Galir didn’t move. His gaze slid to her like one would look at an annoying headache.

She leaned down slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially, though there was no one around to overhear. “By the way, Father and Akalis are still inside, talking for hours. Alone. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious how much time those two are spending together?”

Kade’s nose wrinkled before he could stop himself. The thought of Hanel and Akalis like that was absurd in the way of imagining one’s parents holding hands. “Eh…”

Galir’s expression didn’t change, though a twitch of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “I’m fairly certain you’re responsible for half the rumors you claim to hear.”

“Half?” Ayen said, feigning offense as she straightened. “I’ll have you know I’m far more efficient than that. At least three-quarters.”

Kade snorted despite himself, trying to smother his laugh.

Ayen grinned wider, entirely unrepentant. She looked self-satisfied for a moment, as though she was aiming for that reaction. Then, “Oh, excuse me. Do you think the idea of Akalis as a stepmother is funny?”

She shuddered, then added, “I am sorry I started this.”

“Not sorry enough,” Galir said flatly.

Kade sensed the warmth bathe him as it spilled into the air. He could feel it, how it colored Ayen’s magic, bright and sparking with mischief, how it even softened the quiet shadow that clung around Galir.

For the first time in days, Kade felt light.

Alive.

Home.

*****

The next afternoon, they trained in the freshly fixed garden. The pale twin moons hung overhead, half-hidden behind drifting clouds.

Hanel stood nearby, having Kade practice projection, shaping raw light into increasingly complex creatures.

Galir leaned against a far post, arms crossed, half-watching with a serious distant expression.

Then, all of a sudden… something flashed overhead.

The change was so sharp, Kade almost wondered if he’d imagined it.

One moment, the courtyard was all late sunlight and quiet warmth, gold pooling across the flagstones. The next… something leaned against the world. Slow, like the breath of something vast bending close to listen.

The air shifted. Wind whispered in a new voice. Cold, and carrying a tone, not quite music, but something the bones recognized even when the mind didn’t.

Kade stiffened.

The sky above wasn’t the same shade it had been a heartbeat ago. The deep blues had thinned and bled away. Copper and green bruised the horizon. The two moons had drawn close enough to brush against each other, glowing bright even in daylight.

Kade’s magic twisted inside him, a sharp, instinctive pull.

“What is happening?” His voice came out loud against the hush.

Beside him, Hanel let his own magic bleed away from his hands, stopping his spell mid-air. Galir's eyes were on the change.

“First sign of the Calling,” Hanel said, calm but low. “It’s early… but you can feel the veil thinning.”

Kade swallowed. “It feels… like something alive.”

“It is,” Hanel murmured. “Almost. The veil is the last trace of Mother Moon.” His eyes narrowed, as if weighing the scene against a memory. “Last time, the colours took longer to turn. And the sky didn’t bend this way.”

Kade followed his gaze. “Does that mean it's worse?”

“No, just different.”

Galir stepped closer, boots clicking on stone. “Can you tell if this one’s going to be big?”

“That’s for a schooler to judge,” Hanel replied. “Not me.”

The breath came again, low, ancient, ghosting over the world. Goosebumps prickled along Kade’s arms. “So this happens every Calling? Every what? Five years?” he asked quickly, before the silence could press too tight.

“That’s right, the barrier between realms weakens. It has something to do with the moons’ alignment.” Hanel’s tone stayed plain, but the lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “When the veil is weakened, they come through. And we push them back.”

The Others. Kade’s chest tightened. “When will it be?”

“Soon.”

He drew a breath and announced what he had decided a while ago. “I am going to fight, too.”

“You have the skill,” Hanel said. “But you also need a mind for fighting. Only the best answer the Calling. You will need to prove that you are one of the best.”

Kade glanced toward Galir. This was what he trained for, real danger, not just sparring in courtyards. The words good luck sat on Kade’s tongue but went unspoken. Galir wouldn't need luck. They both would do their duty and help protect the magicless.

The front gate creaked. A small figure hurried through, Bilia, clutching her satchel, eyes wide. “They sent us home,” she blurted. “Everyone’s talking about the sky.”

She went straight to Galir. He crouched without hesitation, and she wrapped her arms tight around his neck.

“It’s just the world making itself strange again,” he told her, voice steady and patient. “Happened before. You were too little to remember. Don’t let it scare you more than it should.”

She looked up. “But what if the monsters come…?”

“You’ll be inside, safe. Think any monster would misbehave where Mother could see? Ruin her perfect garden?” He let the corner of his mouth twitch. “The look she’d give it would kill it on the spot.”

Bilia’s lips curved despite herself. “She’d end the Calling all by herself.”

From where he stood, Kade grinned. Beside him, Hanel’s mouth lifted in the smallest of smiles.

A cool drop touched Kade’s cheek. He tilted his head back just as more followed. Rain… gentle, cool. Without thinking, he stepped forward, spreading his arms.

Galir’s voice carried over the patter. “Are you playing in the rain now?”

“I’ve never stood in it before,” Kade said, grinning. “Not once. I was always too sick.”

That earned him a sharp, unreadable look from Hanel. Galir’s brow furrowed.

“Can I?” Bilia asked, tugging Galir’s arm.

He studied her, then set her down. She darted into the rain. Kade caught her hands and, laughing, began tracing shapes in the damp air. His magic slid out with the motion, warm threads of blue light curling into birds and butterflies that spun above their heads.

They ran across the courtyard under a fractured sky, the two moons drawing ever closer, the colours of the heavens writhing where two worlds bled together. Rain fell steadily, each drop cool with the breath of the other realm.

It was beautiful.

It was wrong.

And it was only beginning.