The late-afternoon sky had turned the color of bruised plums by the time Lena slipped out of her last class. Her heart thrummed in her chest—not from the run to Aiden's meeting spot by the oak tree, but from anticipation. In her pocket, the silver-laced charcoal sticks pressed against her palm, warm as living embers.
She found him waiting as promised, leaning against the gnarled trunk. His dark coat fluttered in a breeze she couldn't feel—and those golden eyes met hers immediately, curiosity soft in their glow.
"Ready?" he asked, voice a low invitation.
Lena nodded, digging out the charcoal. "I want to learn."
Aiden smiled. "Good." He held out his hand—palm up—and with a sweep of air a shallow circle hallmarked by silvery runes appeared on the grass. It shimmered faintly. "Step inside."
Her breath caught. The circle looked like a mirror of light, suspended just above the ground. With a trembling toe, she stepped in—and the world rippled.
—
They stood in a place that felt both enormous and close-walled: twilight draped between towering stone arches, vines that pulsed with faint bioluminescence, a soft hum vibrating through the air. It was the In-Between—the realm Aiden had called home.
Lena swallowed. "It's… beautiful."
Aiden reached behind, brushing a hand over one of the arches. "But dangerous. Here, wraiths roam freely. They're drawn to your power, looking for a way into the living world."
He handed her a charcoal stick. "First lesson: draw to bind. Picture a container in your mind—a box, a cage, anything. Then, sketch it around the spirit. The wards in the charcoal will hold them."
No sooner had he spoken than a shape coalesced in the shadows beyond the arches: a tall, hunched figure, its limbs elongated, ragged robes trailing like mist. Its face was a hollow void, but two points of pale blue light glowed where eyes might be.
Lena's pulse spiked. She raised her charcoal, vision narrowing to that single creature. She inhaled, picturing a sturdy cage of iron bars, gleaming in her mind. Then, her hand moved almost of its own accord, sweeping the charcoal in a quick arc. A box formed on the ground around the wraith, lines crackling with energy.
The creature let out a keening wail as the bars snapped into place, its form rattling against the invisible walls.
"Good," Aiden said, stepping forward. "Now reinforce it—draw locks, runes, anything that says 'stay back.'"
Lena added locking sigils at each corner. The cage glowed brighter, and the wraith slit its glowing eyes at her in fury, pounding against the barrier until a single pane cracked—but didn't break.
Her knees trembled. "I—I did it?"
Aiden nodded, pride warming his gaze. "You did. But magic here moves fast. Let's finish before it escapes."
He drew a final rune at the cage's apex. The bars shrank, tightening like a vise, and the wraith's wail cut off mid-note. Then silence.
Lena exhaled, lowering the stick. The night-air hush felt deafening. She stared at the quiet space where the imprisoned spirit throbbed like a wounded heart.
Aiden laid a hand on her shoulder. "You have talent, Lena. More than most wielders I've seen. But binding spirits is only half your path. You must also learn to open doors."
Lena's brow knit. "Open doors?"
He turned and pointed down a vine-clad corridor. "Follow me."
—
They walked in companionable quiet until they reached a yawning arch carved with spiraling motifs. "This," Aiden said softly, "is a gateway to a human's deepest memory. Watch."
He drew a single sigil in the air—an easy circle with three dots—and the arch shimmered. Beyond it, Lena glimpsed a scene: a small girl, Lena herself, tugging at her mother's coat in a crowded train station, tears shining on her cheeks.
Lena gasped. "That's… me."
Aiden nodded. "If you can access memories like this, you can strengthen your spirit to resist invasion. Find joy, love, regret—every emotion is a beacon."
He stepped aside, offering her the charcoal. "Your turn."
Hands steady now, Lena drew the same circle and three-dot rune on the arch's surface. The portal flared, and Lena felt a pull in her chest. "I'm… going back?"
"Just for a moment," Aiden said, watching her carefully.
She took a breath and looked through. Her childhood memory shimmered: the ache of her mother's goodbye on the platform. Lena's chest squeezed with longing. Yet at the same time, she felt a warmth beneath it—the memory of her mother's arms the day she returned home, and the comfort in that embrace.
She drew a second rune at the portal's edge, sealing it. The vision softened and then vanished. The arch dimmed back into cold stone.
Lena staggered, eyes glossy. "That… felt real."
Aiden offered her a flask of water. "It was. Memories here are living things. Use them wisely."
She took a sip, feeling the late-spring chill in her bones. "I understand now. To protect myself, I must ground my magic in who I am."
Aiden smiled—a ripple of moonlight in his dark hair. "Exactly."
—
A distant chime echoed through the realm. Aiden's face darkened. "Time's up. They'll search."
He drew a final rune in the air, and the arches warped into that silver ring on the oak's grass. "Back we go."
Lena took his hand as the ground spun away. In an instant, they were under the oak at sunset. The real world smelled of wet bark and cut grass.
She looked around, breathless. "Thank you."
He brushed a stray lock from her face. "You're ready for one more thing." His eyes held a challenge—and something softer. Concern? Admiration?
Before she could ask, his voice dropped to a whisper near her ear: "Meet me tomorrow night. The real test begins then."
Lena's heart fluttered—not from fear this time, but excitement. She met his golden gaze and nodded. "I'll be there."
As Aiden melted into the gathering dusk, Lena closed her eyes and let the events of the evening settle around her like a cloak. She was a bridge—no longer untrained, but a student of the Veil. And with each lesson, her heart felt a little less ordinary, a little more intertwined with something infinite… and someone extraordinary.