The Veilhorns started climbing, glowing bright against the hush of snow, like starlight shaped into motion. Sloane stood still, breath caught, feeling the rush of power rise as each creature burst with light - streaks swirling in wild bursts of hue. Around her, the air buzzed, full of unseen currents; magic moved like water, pulling the northern lights awake. Greens melted into deep blues, gold bled into purple-black, while overhead, colors wove a display no human hand could ever match. The Veilhorns shifted together, smooth and sharp like gusts sweeping across open ground. Yet every sweep of their wings flung fresh bolts of glowing trails into darkness, light bouncing off white fields and ice-covered water underneath, tossing back colors that sparkled like broken glass tossed on stone. Though tension curled inside her, Sloane sensed magic pulsing nearby - something wide and soft that eased her nerves just briefly. Not mere show, really - it ran deeper; rhythm tied tight between auroras flickering above and spells woven by horned shapes gliding through sky. Almost felt like earth rejoicing in invisible threads linking it to something older, proof things held steady only when left undisturbed. Sloane looked up, soaking in the shifting shades streaking the night sky. Instead of just watching, she sensed the flow - like the world was breathing through her. It wasn't about duty right then; it was more like belonging, being woven into something way bigger. Light from the Veilhorns curled around the glowing ribbons overhead, pushing the colors deeper, sharper. Up there, those old distant stars burned brighter than before - not cold or far anymore - but alive, joining the show down below in a wild mix of spark and feeling. When the last glow vanished into the darkening sky, Sloane let out a quiet breath, feeling her wings buzz from leftover energy. Everything was calm, yet the beat of the Veil throbbed clearer now - a sign warmth and brightness survive even when barely hanging on. The Veilhorns halted, their glowing shapes fading into dusk, though traces stayed behind - floating above ground, buried in frost, glinting across ice-coated water. She moved ahead, each step carving through fresh snow, heartbeat syncing with open skies around her. Led by colors dancing overhead, she’d keep going like before - not just waiting, watching, holding things together simply because someone must. The Veil’s pulse faltered. Sloane stiffened, air snagging in her throat when the hum of power - once strong - stumbled into something shaky. Up above, the shimmering sky blinked weakly, hues sputtering like fire hit by gusts. A chill ran down her silver-blue fur; the bony ridges inside lit up softly, fish-shaped marks she’d come to rely on as red flags. She spun fast, speckled wing membranes flinching, at a deep shudder growling under the frost below her feet. The ice on the water cracked a little. A split tore through the ice, deep and crooked, like something had ripped it apart. From inside came a thick, oily darkness that throbbed slowly, while the glow of the Veil shrank back, flinching like it got hit. Sloane’s pulse pounded hard. She'd come across ripples like these earlier - rifts from chaos, selfishness, or scars buried in old battles - but this one felt different. It wasn't just broken; it wanted more. The shadow crept out, swallowing up the delicate threads of silvery energy woven into the frozen layer. “They’re here,” she said quietly - her spell sparking up, the horse-pattern marks on her fur glowing like stars at night. Out from behind the tree-covered hill near the lake, a figure crept forward. Not born of the Veil itself, yet tied to it somehow - its body flickered between black plates and sharp spikes, glowing eyes sucking up the glow around them like dry soil. Sloane’s gut tightened; she knew then - it was a Vessel. Twisted by people wanting control, used to channel dark energy gone wrong. This one had been around forever, leaving a wound in reality just by being there. The Veilhorns disappeared - no noise at all. Sloane moved ahead by herself, each hoofstep cracking through frozen flakes. The Vessel stared straight at her; tension built up like deep water pressing down. She had a way out - flight meant reaching the cliffside caves glowing faintly under starlight. Yet something held her back - the Veil twitched wildly now, humming sharp cries instead of soft tones. She looked after it. Drawing a shaky breath, Sloane lifted her hoof. At her signal, mirages appeared - fake Veilhorns spinning into being, glowing wings lit by reflected gleam. When the Vessel growled, its real shape twisted, slashing wildly with clawed limbs. Her make-believe faded fast, yet still gave her just enough time. The ice screamed. Sloane pulled at every bit of magic inside her, then shoved her hoof into the cold snow, pulling power from the dying Veil. Shaking hard, she built a fake scene - not with glow or shine - but using old memories of the lake before everything faded. The northern lights jumped alive, spilling green and gold overhead while the ice under the beast’s feet began to warm up. The beast shrank back, letting out a sharp sound while mist curled round its rough skin. Sloane grabbed it - wings flaring wide. Light raced down her sides, sharp as pulsebeats, slicing the dark inside the ship. "Veilbind!" she shouted, tone half-gale, half-stream. Space cracked. Magic surged out, twisting like vines to lock the beast’s arms and legs. The Vessel jerked violently, smoke curling off its charred frame while it growled - “Sealing something shattered? That’s impossible.” No," Sloane gasped, feet stuck in the snow while she pushed hard against the thing's pull. "Still, I could build it again." Closing her eyes, she stretched out - just herself, not any spell. The Veil wasn’t only strength - it tied things together. Beneath the ice, the lake beat slow, holding what warmth had been. Her make-believe wasn’t fake; it whispered hope - that old rot inside the Vessel could fade into something new. Lights overhead flared up, while the Veil hummed differently now, less scream, more voices joining in. The beast twisted, its dark scales splitting, while its sooty eyes faded. In one last gasping cry, it hit the frozen sheet, melting into a web of bright strands. A snap - and the crack in the ice closed up, as the unseen force knitted back together. Silence fell. Sloane dropped onto her knees, wings drooping, whole frame shaking from tiredness. Above her, the northern lights dimmed, hues melting into soft purple and warm gold. The Veil throbbed calmly now - steady beats brushing her skin. She had done it. Yet when she looked at the clear ice, a quiet worry slipped inside. The Vessel wasn't by itself - someone answered. Even if that sound faded, Sloane felt sure those against the Veil wouldn’t let go. On shaky feet, she looked toward the edge of the world - there, a faint glow crept up behind the dark line of mountains. The Veilhorns would come back; that sound from beyond the mist pulled them each time without fail. For now, she stayed alert. Patience was all she had. Yet she’d protect the delicate, glowing strand tying everything around her. For the Veil. For its beauty. What waited past the stars.