The first Voidwalker breach came two months before the Conjunction.
Seraphina was in the Archives when the alarms sounded—a different pattern than the attack alarm, something she hadn't heard before. Through the bond, she felt Pyre's alarm, and then Kestrel's voice in the corridor outside.
"Breach in the eastern valley," he called. "We need to move. Now."
They flew at top speed, Pyre's wings straining to reach the source of the disturbance. Below them, the landscape scrolled past in a blur—forests and rivers and the distant shapes of villages, all unaware of the horror that was emerging in the mountains.
When they reached the valley, Seraphina's heart stopped.
The breach was larger than any she had seen before—a tear in reality that pulsed with sickly light, its edges ragged and torn. And through it, something was coming.
The Voidwalker emerged slowly, as if testing the boundaries of the world it had once tried to destroy. It was humanoid in shape, but wrong somehow—its proportions off, its limbs too long, its head too small. Where its face should have been, there was only darkness, a void that seemed to suck in the light around it.
Seraphina felt a chill run through her that had nothing to do with the cold mountain air. This was the enemy. This was what had nearly destroyed the world three hundred years ago.
And now it was here.
"Stay behind me," Kestrel ordered, his dragon descending to engage the creature. "Seal the breach as soon as we distract it."
"Kestrel, wait—"
But he was already gone, his dragon diving toward the Voidwalker with a roar that shook the mountains. Fire bloomed around the creature, but it seemed to have no effect—the Voidwalker simply absorbed the flames, its darkness growing stronger.
Through the bond, Seraphina felt Pyre's assessment. It's feeding on the fire, the dragon said. We need a different approach.
What approach?
Blood. Your blood. But not to seal the breach—to drive it back.
Seraphina didn't hesitate. She drew her dragon glass blade and pressed it against her palm, letting the glowing blood drip onto the mountainside below. Then, through the bond, she directed Pyre to channel the power of that blood into fire.
The resulting flame was unlike anything Seraphina had ever seen—not orange or red, but white-hot, tinged with the golden glow of her blood. It struck the Voidwalker and the creature screamed—a sound that wasn't quite sound, a vibration that seemed to tear at the fabric of reality itself.
The Voidwalker retreated. Its form wavered, grew insubstantial, and then—with a final, terrible screech—it was pulled back through the breach, its darkness dissipating like smoke in the wind.
Seal it now! Pyre commanded.
Seraphina pressed her bleeding palm against the edge of the breach, and the tear in reality shuddered, contracted, and closed. The valley fell silent.
But the horror remained.
"What was that?" Seraphina asked, her voice shaking. "What did we just fight?"
"That was a Voidwalker," Kestrel said, landing beside her. "A lesser one, but still dangerous. The first to breach the barrier before the Conjunction."
"Lesser?" Seraphina stared at him. "That thing almost killed us!"
"It didn't come close. Your blood-fire drove it back before it could fully manifest." Kestrel's expression was grim. "But the real threat is still on the other side. The Voidwalker Lords—the leaders of their kind. They won't attempt to cross until the Conjunction, when the barrier is weakest."
"How many of them are there?"
"We don't know for certain. Three? Five? A dozen?" He shook his head. "The histories are unclear. What we do know is that each one is more powerful than the creature we just faced. And they will be coming for you specifically."
"Why me?"
"Because your blood is the key to the barrier. If they can capture you—if they can use your blood to tear open the breach permanently—they won't need to wait for the Conjunction." Kestrel met her eyes, and she saw something like fear in his golden gaze. "You are the most valuable target in this war, Seraphina. And the Voidwalkers know it."
The flight back to the Citadel was silent. Seraphina couldn't stop thinking about what she had seen—the wrongness of the Voidwalker, the darkness where its face should have been, the hunger that seemed to radiate from its very presence.
That was what she was training to fight. That was what she would face when the Conjunction arrived.
And somewhere, in the darkness beyond the barrier, the Voidwalker Lords were waiting.
The Citadel was in chaos when they returned. Word of the breach had spread, and everyone knew what it meant. The barrier was weakening faster than anticipated. The Conjunction was still two months away, but the enemy was already testing their defenses.
The Queen summoned them immediately.
"This changes everything," she said without preamble. "The Voidwalkers are already probing for weaknesses. We must assume they will try again—and soon."
"What do we do?" Seraphina asked.
"We accelerate. The training, the preparations, everything." The Queen's red eyes burned with determination. "You have two months. Perhaps less. By the time the Conjunction arrives, you must be ready to face not just lesser Voidwalkers, but the Lords themselves."
"How am I supposed to prepare for that? We barely survived the first one."
"You survived. That's more than most could say." The Queen's expression softened slightly. "You have strength you haven't begun to discover, Seraphina Vale. I have watched you grow from a fisherman's daughter into a warrior in a matter of months. Trust that growth to continue."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we all die, and the world ends." The Queen's voice was flat, clinical. "But I don't believe that will happen. The Binding chose you for a reason. Find that reason, and you'll find the strength you need."
She dismissed them, and Seraphina walked back to her chambers in a daze. Two months. Two months to prepare for the most important battle in three hundred years.
Through the bond, she felt Pyre's steady presence. We will be ready, little flame, the dragon said. Trust in yourself. Trust in us.
I'm trying, Seraphina responded. But I'm scared.
Good. Fear keeps us sharp. It keeps us alive. Pyre's consciousness wrapped around hers, warm and protective. Rest now. Tomorrow, we train harder than ever before.
And somehow, despite the fear, despite the weight of what was coming, Seraphina slept.