Nobody spoke. The hidden valley stretched beneath them like a wound carved into the mountains. Thousands of returned filled the valley floor. Kneeling. Waiting. Watching. The sight alone was enough to make Aurora uneasy. But it wasn't the returned that frightened her. It was the silence. Thousands of bodies. Thousands of people. Not a single sound. No whispers. No movement. Nothing.
Only the distant groan of the black doorway slowly opening atop the hill. The sound echoed across the valley. Stone grinding against stone. Ancient. Patient. Wrong. Aurora felt the Veil tightening inside her chest. The closer she looked at the doorway, the more uncomfortable she became. The thing shouldn't exist. It didn't look man-made. It looked older than language. Older than civilization. Older than memory itself. The black stone seemed to absorb the moonlight. Swallowing it. Consuming it. The longer she stared, the more she felt like something beyond the doorway was staring back.
Then she blinked. And the doorway was closer. Aurora froze. A cold shiver crawled through her body. The hill hadn't moved. She knew that. Yet for a second it felt closer. Like distance meant nothing there. Like the hill existed somewhere reality struggled to understand.
"You felt it." Lucien's voice came quietly. Aurora looked toward him. The silver-eyed being had gone pale. Actually pale. The sight alarmed her. "What is this place?" Lucien didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the hill. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded distant. "Older than Hollow Vale." Silence. "Older than the Veil." Aurora's stomach tightened. That wasn't possible. The Veil felt ancient. Timeless. Yet somehow this place predated it. The realization unsettled her deeply.
A sudden movement below caught her attention. One of the returned stood. Then another. Then another. The valley began changing. Thousands of kneeling figures slowly rose to their feet. Not all at once. One by one. Like worshippers responding to a silent command. Aurora immediately looked toward Caelum. The golden-eyed being stood near the front of the gathering. Watching the doorway. Smiling. Waiting. He looked almost excited. That frightened her. Because Caelum never seemed surprised by anything. And if he was excited then whatever came next was part of his plan.
The thought made her grip the Veil tighter. The silver threads immediately responded. Light flickered beneath her skin. The doorway reacted. Aurora stopped breathing. The black stone pulsed. Once. The reaction lasted less than a second. Yet everyone noticed. Lucien spun toward her. Caelum's smile widened. The returned shifted. The doorway had responded to her. Aurora felt dread settle heavily in her stomach. "No." The word escaped before she realized it.
The doorway pulsed again. Stronger this time. A deep boom rolled across the valley. The standing stones surrounding the hill lit up one after another. Blue. Silver. Gold. Ancient symbols erupted across their surfaces. Thousands of forgotten markings illuminating the darkness. The hidden valley suddenly looked alive. The returned immediately lowered themselves to their knees again. Every single one. Aurora's pulse quickened. Something was happening. Something bad.
Then she heard it. A voice. Soft. Familiar. "Aurora." Her heart stopped. The voice came from behind her. Impossible. Slowly she turned. Nobody stood there. Only darkness. Trees. Stone. The mountain path. Nothing else. Yet she knew that voice. She would know it anywhere. Her father.
Aurora's breathing became uneven. No. That wasn't possible. Her father was dead. She had buried him. She remembered standing beside the grave. Remembered the rain. Remembered the flowers. Remembered the pain. "Aurora." The voice came again. Closer this time. The sound nearly shattered her resolve. Her father. It sounded exactly like him. Every detail. Every inflection. Every emotion.
The Veil immediately screamed. The warning hit so hard that Aurora staggered. Run. The message came instantly. The voice wasn't her father. Something else wore it. Something else borrowed it. The realization chilled her blood.
She wasn't the only one affected. Nearby, Gideon suddenly froze. His eyes widened. "Mother?" Elara turned sharply. Their mother stood right beside her. Yet Gideon was staring into the valley. At someone else. Someone Aurora couldn't see. Elara's face drained of color. A moment later tears appeared in her eyes. "No." The whisper escaped her lips.
Aurora knew immediately. Elara heard someone too. The entire group was hearing voices. Different voices. Personal voices. The voices of people they had lost. The hill wasn't calling them. It was tempting them. Lucien moved immediately. "Do not listen." His voice cut through the illusion. Sharp. Commanding. Ancient. The effect was immediate. Aurora felt the pressure lessen. The voices retreated slightly. But not completely. They were still there. Waiting. Watching. Patient.
The hill understood them. It knew what they missed. What they regretted. What they loved. The horror of that realization nearly stole Aurora's breath. Then Caelum began walking. The movement drew every eye. Slowly. Deliberately. He started climbing the hill. Toward the doorway. Toward the opening darkness. The returned bowed as he passed. Thousands of heads lowering. Thousands of dead honoring their king.
Aurora felt the Veil pulse violently. The doorway pulsed back. The hill trembled. The standing stones brightened. And somewhere beyond the opening crack of black stone something moved. Not the silhouette she had glimpsed before. Something larger. Much larger. A shape shifting within endless darkness. Watching. Waiting. Ancient beyond comprehension.
For the first time since entering the valley fear crossed Caelum's face. Only for a second. Only a heartbeat. But Aurora saw it. And that terrified her more than anything else. Because if something beyond that doorway could make Caelum afraid then the nightmare was far bigger than she had imagined.