Sloane took a breath, letting the silence wrap around her like cold mist. Above, the auroras shimmered; beneath, they mirrored back from ice so clear it felt like falling into the sky. Beauty hung there, thin as frost - but it made her heart heavier instead of light. Strong as she was, good at hiding truths or building walls out of air, fear still crept in slowly. Not now, maybe not tomorrow, but sometime past breaking point, the barrier would weaken. Power fades, spells unravel, even ones meant to last centuries. When that hour comes - earlier than she hopes - she might not stand tall enough to stop what follows. She'd noticed the signals earlier - how the Veil's glow blinked, how the wind changed softly, or how the northern lights faded then flared again. Cold months were her top pick since that’s when the barrier felt most alive, though she never thought it’d last forever. This power holding everything together wasn’t something you could just assume would stay. She guarded the Veil through plenty of cycles, sure, but others came before her… and more will come after. The past of the ones ahead of her floated through the breeze, sparkled on the water, settled with the soft fall of snow. Yet they’d told her - carrying this wasn’t something to rush into. She shut her eyes, wings curling close while the northern lights washed over her in waves of color. Yet through each shift, her goal never changed - what drove her stayed solid. Magic wasn't some outside power you tap into; no, it breathed inside her, pulsed under her skin. Each trick she made, each shield shaped from thin air, meant more than safety - it carried weight, like a vow whispered into silence. A pledge to keep things steady, standing guard between reality and chaos no one grasped. Yet now and then, she thought maybe love counted more than any spell. She remembered the people she’d kept safe, the connections she’d built, how her powers changed folks’ lives. Though it was freezing, though everything felt still under the icy dark, she believed one thing - so long as she didn’t quit, the Veil wouldn’t either. Snow would keep drifting down, frost would cling on, while auroras flickered overhead. She’d stay right where she’s always stood - not just because of duty, but for Veilheim, its power, and everyone living there. The quiet broke with a deep, rumbling sound. Sloane jolted awake, fur standing up as the glow over the lake wavered - once steady, now splitting like broken glass. The Veil used to murmur hints, but this felt like shouting. Out of nowhere, a crack tore through space, barely visible yet throbbing with dark, twisted energy. Inside it, shadows squirmed, tearing into the disguise she'd built piece by piece around Veilheim. It happened fast. That idea crept into her head, cold and tight. Underfoot, the frozen lake rumbled - shaky, restless. She stretched out her speckled wing-film; it shimmered, slicing up what little glow was left. Her spine glowed like fish bones, ghost light flickering as the undead power stirred inside. Yet when she pushed her spell forward, a cold worry pulsed behind her ribs. It wasn't fresh - this gap had been there longer than she'd lived. Longer than nearly any Warden remembered. Not some split or fracture - more like a doorway left half-shut, now dragging itself wide again. The first moment Sloane saw what lived past the Veil, it looked like a flicker on dark water under moonlight. Back then, she didn’t get that it wasn’t liquid at all - more like sorrow given shape, built from buried stories and broken magic. This time, it oozed out through the crack, half smoke, half recollection, filled with an old craving inside its empty frame. Her breath curled in front of her face while she fought the urge to run. ‘You’re the barrier. You’re the vow.’ The old Veilwarden’s voice, Eira’s, kept playing inside her head. She’d disappeared three cold seasons ago - her corpse was discovered stiff and lifeless by the shore of this very water, just like now, those dark markings spreading slowly on Sloane’s skin too. She lifted a hoof - the air sparked, forming a glowing dome, like a reflection of the night sky above. Yet the creature hit hard, surging forward like wind through cracks, twisting past the shield like it was thin ice. Her power wavered under the force. Chills crawled deep into her body; suddenly she wasn’t by the water - she was back there, when Eira dropped, life fading fast, slipping away grain by grain. Magic runs out sometimes. The entity charged once more - Sloane spun fast, her spotted coat glinting while she pulled up another trick: icy trees forming a barrier, limbs tangled like bars. Yet darkness slipped between the cracks, creeping toward the split's core. Her pulse hammered loud. The gap stretched wider now. Once it splits wide open, Veilheim’s cold won’t just hide them - it’ll lock them stiff, bury everything under frost and dim sky light. She remembered Mira, that quiet healer girl who fixed her wing when the barrier spell went wrong. Then there was Aric, the smith, his gratitude carved deep into the Veilwarden’s gate wood. And the vow along her ribs - no magic symbols, just feeling pressed into skin. This is why I promised to protect the entrance - because of them, but also for your sake. Sloane spread her wings wide, then dropped fast. As the creature snarled, twisting near the crack’s rim, she cut past it - lower, quicker. Into the dark pit she fell, power sparking when she hit the heart of the tear. This wasn’t just some barrier anymore - the Veil acted like a single trembling strand, worn bare from endless mending by others who came first. Now clear to her sight: weak spots in an old weave, pulled way too thin over ages. Eira’s magic stayed put, stuck to the thread like ice. Sloane touched it, her glow mixing with what was left of the old one. The creature screamed, jerking back - this wasn’t what it planned on. Power isn’t only force; it holds pieces of the past. So Sloane pushed into the Veil everything that made her: Mira’s laugh warming her skin, Aric’s hammer ringing through stone, lights swirling above when she finally got the trick right. The crack twitched. A dark glow snapped back. Overhead, the lake froze again while the northern lights flashed - sharp and bright like they’d just woken up. As Sloane came out, the chill dug in hard - yet the Veil held firm. The creature had vanished, its shape blown apart like soot in a breeze that wasn't there anymore. She dropped onto the frozen surface, gasping, the crack under her shrunk to a tiny spark. Her wings drooped low while her bones showed soft gleams - the final flickers of her power fading slow. You made it. The idea slipped in - quiet, worn out, but proud. Still, when she looked at the glowing strand of the Veil piercing her ribs, she got it. This wasn't the finishing point. The break wasn't new, yet it felt rushed. Whoever - or whatever - was pushing to crack the doorway again, while Sloane merely bought time before what's coming. Even so, while she walked slowly toward the shelter, her hooves breaking through the frosty ground, tiny sparks flickered above. Overhead, colors danced across the sky, slow but breathing. Far off, metal rang once - Mira’s way of saying dinner was warm and waiting. From somewhere unseen came Aric’s chuckle, carried by cold air. Sloane grinned. The barrier wouldn't last forever. Yet whenever tales needed shielding, palms craved warmth from flames, or feelings still knew kindness, she’d show up - not only watching over things, but stitching together small instants. Holding tight to broken pieces and delicate wonders. She’d show up - no doubt about it. Every single time.