Page 117 of Unveiled

Xiathen’s expression dimmed. “The Council demanded separation.”

Adrian’s breath hitched. “And?”

“The First Two refused.” A silence fell. “And the Veil split.”

Connor froze. “The rend.”

“The original rend,” Xiathen said. “Born not from resonance, but from the Council’s interference. The Mortal Plane tore. The Veiled Realm bled through. Magic erupted across your world. Forests changed overnight. Mountains rose where plains had been. Animals mutated. Wolves gained the ability to shift. Humans gained sight of magic.”

“That was the origin,” Adrian whispered.

“Yes.” Xiathen lowered his gaze. “Because two people refused to let go of one another.”

Connor’s voice was low. “What happened to them?”

Xiathen closed his eyes. “They died sealing the tear.”

Adrian’s stomach dropped.

“They gave their lives,” Xiathen continued, “to bind the rend, to stabilise both realms. Their last act was a vow spoken together. A vow of protection. A vow of unity.”

“And that became the Valour mantle,” Adrian murmured.

“Yes,” Xiathen said. “But the Council twisted the story. They erased the truth. They made it seem as though Valours were guardians created by the Veil, not guardians created out of love. In every generation, the Veil seeks two souls who resonate strongly enough to stabilise magic. Two who feel with enough depth, enough fury, enough devotion, to challenge the rend.”

Adrian’s voice was barely a whisper. “Two who love.”

Xiathen nodded once. “Yes.”

Connor gasped, as though punched in the lungs.

“So when the Triarc named us,” Adrian began.

“They recognised resonance,” Xiathen said. “The bond. The symmetry.” Xiathen’s gaze sharpened. “They named you because the Veil responded to you. Both of you.”

Connor swallowed. “Are you telling me Adrian and I were chosen because—”

“Yes,” Xiathen said simply. “Because the Veil felt what you feel. It doesn’t want power misused. It is neutral, allowing all worlds to live as they should.”

Adrian felt heat bloom in his cheeks. Not embarrassment, not shame, but something deeper, terrifying, and tender. Connor looked away. His jaw tight.

“It still doesn’t explain why I’m marked or what I personally have to do with Utharia,” Adrian said. “What is my origin story? Do you have that?”

Xiathen shook his head. “The Triarc is still looking. They have no answers yet. But that unknown reason alone is not why the Council wants Adrian.”

Connor’s head snapped up. “Explain.”

Xiathen unrolled a parchment beside the tablet. Symbols swirled across the page. Familiar ones: the sigils on the anchors, the fault lines, and the mark on Adrian’s chest.

“The First Two created a resonance so powerful it nearly destroyed both planes,” Xiathen explained. “The Council fears a second union of such magnitude. They fear your bond is strong enough to break their control.”

Adrian’s breath caught. “Control of what?”

Xiathen tapped the parchment. “Of the Veil. Of magic, and of the boundary between realms. The Council is not protecting the world. They are hoarding it for power.”

“So taking Adrian,” Connor growled, “would weaken me.”

“Yes,” Xiathen said gently. “Break the bond. Break the possibility.”