Leon exhaled, his chest heaving, his wind magic humming steady in his limbs, like a breeze before a storm.

"Yeah. Much better," he said, his grin faint but genuine.

She tapped his cheek with her knuckle, her green eyes sparkling. "Told you. You don't need fire to be dangerous. You are plenty strong Lor, but you are just nervous."

They returned to the alcove in silence.

Zara glanced at them, noting the wind curling at Leon's fingertips, her blue eyes flicking with approval before returning to her axe.

Lysette didn't speak, but her emerald eyes lingered on Leon's steadier frame, her face unreadable, a mix of irritation and curiosity.

Terya rolled her shoulders, buckling her daggers into place as she tightened her trousers.

"Alright. The sanctum's close. You ready, hero?" she asked, her voice firm, her grin returning.

Leon tightened his grip on his reforged dagger, his eyes locked on the path ahead, the whispers of the Veil distant but persistent.

"I'm ready," he said, his voice steady, the weight of Terya's trust anchoring him.

As the group rose from the alcove, tension hung in the crimson air of the Temple of Lysara like a blade poised to fall.

Leon adjusted his tunic and weapon belt, his wind magic flickering faintly, his reforged dagger heavy at his hip.

His gaze drifted to Lysette, the fiery priestess sitting upright, arms crossed, her torn white robe revealing faint curse marks glowing beneath her skin.

Her emerald eyes were sharp, wary, as if she hadn't decided whether to bolt, lecture them, or start a fight.

Leon cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "Uh… we never asked. What's your name?"

Lysette raised an eyebrow, her gaze cutting. "Lysette," she said curtly. "Acolyte of Lysara, formerly of the Luminous Order—before the curse made sure I'd never touch true light again."

Terya whistled softly, her green eyes glinting. "That explains the glowstick routine back there."

Lysette's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Better a weak light than no spine at all, rogue," she shot back, her voice sharp but not hostile.

Zara grunted, strapping her axe across her back, her silver hair damp with sweat.

"Save the barbs for the Veilbound," she said, her blue eyes scanning the shadows, her curse marks pulsing faintly.

They pressed onward through the maze of cracked pillars and hollow corridors, the Crimson Veil's whispers growing louder, a thousand voices murmuring over one another, curling around their ankles with the red mist.

A chorus of snarls echoed from the archways.

And all of a sudden six Veilbound sorcerers emerged, their tattered crimson robes stitched with living veins, red-eyed, hollow sockets glowing beneath bone-stitched runes.

Their hands shimmered with dark sigils, blood orbs forming and lancing through the air.

"Move!" Zara barked, shoving Leon behind a fallen slab, her axe swinging like a reflex to intercept an orb, splattering it in a burst of red steam.

Terya darted forward, her sharp daggers carving wind arcs that detonated two orbs midair with sharp cracks, her leather top clinging to her sweat-slicked curves as she moved like the wind itself.

"Now's your time, hero!" she shouted, her green eyes blazing., "Show what you have got. Remember. You have nothing to fear. I am here."

Leon steadied his breath, fear tight in his chest, cold at the edges of his thoughts.

But Terya's warmth from the corridor, her lips, her trust, anchored him.

He raised his hand, focusing, his wind magic pulsing through his bond with Terya.

A Crescent Gale sliced across the battlefield, catching a sorcerer's shoulder, blood spattering the stone as the man staggered back.

"Nice shot," Zara muttered, charging into the fray, her axe cleaving downward with brutal force, scattering limbs and ichor.

Her curse marks flared with each blow, her arm trembling but unyielding.

Lysette stood back, her cracked staff glowing faintly, casting dim orbs of light that distracted the sorcerers, blinding them just enough for Terya and Leon to strike.

Her light was weak but precise, delaying their spells.

Leon ducked another blood orb, flinging a wind arc that knocked a sorcerer's staff away, sending it clattering into the mist.

Terya finished them with a swift cut to the throat, blood splattering the altar.

"Getting better," she called over her shoulder, her grin fierce.

"Still scared," Leon grunted, his heart pounding.

"Good. Fear keeps you from getting cocky," she said, spinning to face another sorcerer.

They pressed through the corridor, the air thick with copper and sulfur, reaching the sanctum—a domed chamber, its ceiling collapsed in places, vines pulsing with crimson light crawling over a central bone altar.

The Bloodvine fruit lay there, dark red, pulsing like a heart, beside the Starbloom Crystal, its petals flickering with starlight.

Leon stared, the moment unreal—the relics they'd bled for, feared for. Shadow-beast tracks cut into the dust, clawed and massive.

"Dreadwraith's close," Zara muttered, her axe ready.

"And the Veilbound Wraith," Lysette added, her tone grim, her emerald eyes fixed on the crystal. "It'll come when we touch that."

Leon stepped forward, his hands trembling—not with fear now, but with the weight of their goal. Terya's hand slid onto his shoulder, her touch warm.

"You've got this," she whispered, her green eyes steady.

Zara gave a firm nod, her stance unwavering despite her curse's flare.

Leon reached for the Bloodvine fruit, his fingers brushing its slick, pulsing surface.

The altar pulsed beneath him, and a surprise blood orb shot from the shadows.

He flung a hand out, a Crescent Gale deflecting it with precision, slamming it into the wall in a burst of red steam.

Lysette stepped beside him, her emerald eyes flicking to his, surprised. "Not bad, wind boy," she said, her voice grudgingly impressed.

Leon smirked, his heart steady. "Not bad for a glowstick."

She blinked, then laughed—just once, a sharp, reluctant sound, the first spark of camaraderie.

He reached for the Starbloom Crystal, lifting it gently, its flickering light nestling into his grip as if accepting him.

The whispers rose to a crescendo, but he didn't tremble.

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