Kael didn't make it far. He had intended to disappear into the city the way he always did quietly, unnoticed, just another face swallowed by Lagos traffic and noise but his body had other plans. By the time he turned off the main road into a narrower street, his steps had slowed, his balance less certain than he wanted to admit. The cost the creature had been right about that. Using that kind of power here wasn't the same as it was in Veyruun, where it came naturally, like breathing. Even when it hurt there, it made sense. But here, every pull, every tear, every forced distortion of space felt like he was pushing against something that didn't want to bend, and when it finally did bend, it pushed back hard. Kael leaned briefly against the wall of a closed shop, his breathing uneven as he pressed a hand against his side. The bandage beneath his shirt was damp again. Not heavily, but enough. "Great," he muttered. "That's new too."
The street around him was quieter than the main road, but not empty; a few people passed by, some glancing at him briefly before moving on, but no one stopped or asked questions. Good. He needed a moment just one but even that felt like a risk now because the silence wasn't empty; it never was anymore. Kael pushed himself upright again and continued walking, slower this time, more deliberate. His mind wasn't on where he was going it was on what had just happened. The tear. The creature. The way it had stepped through like the boundary didn't matter anymore. That wasn't just a coincidence; that was escalation. And worse it had recognized him. Not just in the vague, predatory way the others did, but this one had spoken, understood, and remembered. Kael's jaw tightened as the words circled in his head, refusing to settle or be ignored: "You opened the way. You brought me here. You are not built for both." "Then what am I built for?" he muttered under his breath. No answer came, but the question stayed.
He didn't go home immediately; instead, Kael found himself walking without direction, letting the city carry him forward while his thoughts tried and failed to piece together something coherent. The noise of Lagos usually helped, the constant movement and energy, the unpredictability of it all but tonight, it only made things worse because now he saw too much. Every reflection in every window caught his attention, every shadow seemed just slightly out of place, and every flicker at the edge of his vision made his pulse spike, his body ready for something that might not even be there. Or might. At one point, he stopped in front of a darkened storefront, his eyes locking onto his own reflection again. It stared back at him normal, still. But Kael didn't trust it. "Go ahead," he said quietly. "Do something." Nothing happened; the reflection didn't move, didn't blink out of sync, and didn't smile. For a moment, Kael almost relaxed.
Then, a second reflection appeared behind him it was faint, distorted, and not fully formed. Kael didn't turn; he watched it through the glass. It didn't move closer and didn't speak; it just stood there, waiting. Kael exhaled slowly. "You're getting bold." Still nothing. The reflection flickered once then disappeared. Kael turned immediately to an empty street with no one there, but the feeling remained. He wasn't imagining this anymore, and whatever was watching him wasn't in a hurry. By the time Kael finally returned to his apartment, the sky had darkened fully, the city settling into its nighttime rhythm. The energy outside hadn't disappeared it had just changed to be slower, sharper, and less forgiving. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, locking it without thinking. The familiar space should have felt safe, but it didn't anymore. Kael leaned back against the door for a moment, letting the silence settle around him, his body feeling heavier now as the adrenaline left only the weight of exhaustion and the lingering strain of what he'd done.
He pushed himself off the door and moved further inside, his steps measured. Everything looked the same, but nothing felt the same. He stopped in the middle of the room. "Alright," he said quietly. "Enough guessing." If this thing whatever it was remembered him, then there was a reason, and if there was a reason, there had to be a beginning. Kael moved toward the small table near his bed, pulling open a drawer he hadn't touched in years. Inside were things he rarely looked at anymore old notes, small objects, fragments of a life he didn't spend much time thinking about. Not because they didn't matter, but because they didn't help. Until now. He sifted through them slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, until his fingers paused on something familiar: a notebook. Worn. Edges slightly frayed. Kael stared at it for a moment before picking it up. "This better be worth it," he muttered.
He opened it. Most of the pages were filled with notes scribbles, symbols, and fragments of ideas he'd written down years ago when his magic had first started developing beyond simple tricks. Back then, it had been curiosity, experimentation, and control or at least the illusion of it. Kael flipped through the pages quickly at first, scanning and searching for anything that felt connected to what was happening now. Nothing. Just old thoughts, old attempts, old mistakes. Then he stopped near the back. A page he didn't remember writing. The ink was darker than the others, and the handwriting was his, but not messier, sharper, like it had been written in a hurry or under pressure. Kael's expression shifted as he leaned in slightly, reading. There was only one line. One word, repeated over and over again across the page, each time written harder than the last, pressing deeper into the paper: Veyruun. Kael's breath caught. Slowly, he sat down. "That's not possible," he said under his breath.
He hadn't known that name before not consciously, he was sure of that. The first time he'd heard it, it had come from them from that creature, from the place itself. So how Kael flipped back a page. Blank. Another. Blank. Then another. More writing, different this time not repeated, but sentences, broken and incomplete: Not a dream. Not separate. Door already open. Kael felt a chill run down his spine. "No…" he whispered. This wasn't new. This wasn't something that had just started happening. This had been happening longer than he realized long enough for him to write about it and forget. Kael leaned back slightly, his mind racing now, trying to connect pieces that didn't fit. "Before this… before the dreams…" The creature's voice echoed in his head again: "You walked between both worlds." Kael's grip tightened on the notebook. "What did I do…" he murmured. The room felt colder, quieter. He looked up slowly toward the mirror. It was still. Normal. But Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. "Say it again," he said quietly. Nothing. "Veyruun."
The word felt heavier out loud. The air shifted just slightly enough. A faint ripple passed across the surface of the mirror, barely visible, like a disturbance under still water. Kael stood slowly, his body protesting, but he ignored it as he stepped closer. "One more time," he said, his voice lower now. "Veyruun." The mirror reacted instantly. The surface distorted not cracking, not breaking but deepening. The reflection blurred, stretching inward like it had gained depth beyond what it should have. Kael's heart pounded. "That's it," he said under his breath. "That's the connection." The name. The place. The door. It wasn't just where he went; it was tied to him. And saying it calling it did something. The distortion faded slowly, the mirror returning to normal as if nothing had happened, but Kael stepped back now, his expression more focused than it had been all day. "Alright," he said quietly. "I see it." Not fully, not clearly, but enough. The realm had a name, and that name had power, which meant it could be used or it could be used against him.
Kael sat back down slowly, the notebook still in his hands, his mind finally settling into something more dangerous than confusion: understanding. Not complete, but growing. "This didn't start recently," he said to himself. "I started it." Or at least, he was part of it. The thought sat heavy in his chest because if that was true, then everything happening now wasn't random; it was a consequence of something he had done something he didn't remember yet. Kael closed the notebook slowly, his grip tightening just slightly. "Then I guess," he said quietly, his voice steadier now, "it's time I start remembering." Outside, the city moved on, unaware. But somewhere beyond sleep, beyond mirrors, beyond the thin, breaking line between worlds something was listening. And for the first time, it wasn't just watching. It was waiting.