Dawn broke over the village with a faint, golden light, but Amara’s sense of dread didn’t ease with the morning. She and Kaelan had kept watch through most of the night, their eyes fixed on the dark line of trees, waiting for any sign of movement. By the time they returned to the village, the curse had receded, but its presence lingered in the quiet morning air, as if it had seeped into the very earth.

Amara moved through the village with careful steps, her senses attuned to every shift in the air, every faint rustle. She felt the curse’s warmth lingering, faint but unmistakable, as though the remnant had left a mark on the land itself.

Kaelan walked beside her, his gaze scanning their surroundings. He was quiet, thoughtful, and she sensed his mind turning over the events of the night, calculating, piecing things together. They made a good team, she realized—neither too quick to act nor too slow to see danger.

“Do you feel that?” she murmured, glancing at him.

He nodded, his expression grim. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Like an echo.”

They reached the village square, where a few early risers were beginning to stir. The baker’s shop was already open, and the smell of fresh bread drifted through the air, a comforting reminder of normalcy in the face of darkness. Yet as Amara looked around, she noticed something strange.

A group of children had gathered near the well, their voices hushed, faces unusually serious. They were standing in a tight circle, whispering, casting quick, nervous glances at something on the ground.

Amara approached them, curiosity prickling. “What’s going on here?”

The children parted slightly, revealing a small, burned patch of grass at the edge of the well. The earth was blackened, and faint wisps of smoke curled up from the ground, as though something had scorched it recently.

One of the older children looked up at her, eyes wide. “We found it like this this morning,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Is it…the curse?”

Amara knelt, examining the burn mark closely. She reached out, feeling the faint warmth lingering in the soil. It was subtle, barely detectable, but it carried the same sickly warmth she had come to associate with the curse.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she said, forcing a calm smile. “Go on now—go back to your families.”

The children hesitated, glancing at each other before nodding and scampering off. Once they were gone, Kaelan crouched beside her, his gaze fixed on the burn mark.

“This is from the curse, isn’t it?” he murmured, his voice low.

“Yes,” she replied, her tone grim. “It’s spreading further than we thought. If it’s strong enough to leave marks in the village…”

She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t have to. The curse had crept into their midst, leaving traces in places it should have had no reach. She felt a chill, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her. She had underestimated the curse, and now the people she cared about were at risk.

Kaelan straightened, his expression dark. “If the curse is strong enough to reach here, then it’s only a matter of time before it affects the people. We need to find its source.”

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She nodded, her mind racing. The wards along the Veil had been holding, but they weren’t enough. They needed to do more than contain the curse—they needed to understand it, to discover where it was coming from and why it had chosen to spread.

“Let’s check the other wards,” she said, turning toward the village’s perimeter. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find a pattern.”

They moved through the village together, inspecting each warded marker with careful precision. Amara could feel the Veil’s energy pulsing beneath her fingers, faint but steady, a reminder of the fragile boundary that separated their world from the darkness beyond.

As they worked, Kaelan kept a close watch, his gaze sweeping their surroundings, his movements precise and deliberate. He was focused, methodical, and she found herself grateful for his presence. His quiet strength was a balm against the weight of her own doubts.

They reached the last marker, and Amara traced her fingers over the stone, feeling the faint pulse of magic beneath her touch. The ward was intact, its energy holding steady, but she could feel the curse pressing against it, like a faint ripple just beneath the surface.

“It’s barely holding,” she murmured, a knot of worry tightening in her chest. “I don’t know how much longer it can last.”

Kaelan crossed his arms, his gaze distant. “Then we need more than just wards. We need answers.”

Amara looked at him, a spark of determination in her eyes. “The curse has a source, a place it’s drawing its strength from. If we can find it, maybe we can weaken it, stop it from spreading any further.”

“And where do we start looking?” he asked, his tone even.

“There are stories,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Old tales about a place in the mountains, beyond the Veil’s edge. They say it’s a place where curses are born, a nexus of dark magic.”

Kaelan raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A place where curses are born? Sounds more like a legend than a solution.”

“It might be,” she admitted. “But it’s the only lead we have. And if there’s even a chance that we can stop the curse…”

He nodded, a flicker of understanding in his gaze. “Then it’s worth the risk.”

Amara took a deep breath, steeling herself. The journey would be dangerous, the path uncertain. But if they stayed here, if they waited for the curse to grow stronger, they would be fighting a losing battle.

“We’ll need to prepare,” she said, her voice steady. “Supplies, weapons, and…a plan.”

Kaelan gave a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. “Plans are good. But sometimes, all you need is stubbornness and a bit of luck.”

She almost smiled, but the weight of what lay ahead was too heavy for humor. They were venturing into the unknown, and while her training as a Veilwalker had prepared her for many things, facing the heart of a curse was something even she hadn’t anticipated.

They turned back toward the village, the morning light casting long shadows across the fields. Amara’s thoughts were already racing, calculating the supplies they would need, the preparations they would have to make. She could sense Kaelan’s tension beside her, the quiet resolve that mirrored her own.

As they walked, a figure approached them from the direction of the cottages. It was Orin, his face pale, his eyes wide with something between fear and determination.

“I’m coming with you,” he said, his voice steady.

Amara shook her head, her tone firm. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

But Orin stood his ground, his gaze unwavering. “If this curse is affecting the village, if it’s putting us all at risk…then I want to help. I can carry supplies, reinforce wards, whatever you need.”

She hesitated, her heart twisting with worry. She wanted to protect him, to shield him from the dangers of the journey ahead. But she also knew that he was right—the curse was a threat to them all, and he had a right to stand against it.

Kaelan watched the exchange, his expression unreadable. “He’s willing, and we could use the help.”

Amara glanced between them, her resolve wavering. Finally, she gave a reluctant nod. “Fine. But you follow my lead, and you do exactly as I say. No arguments.”

Orin nodded, relief and determination shining in his eyes. “I won’t let you down.”

They stood in silence, the weight of their decision settling over them. The path ahead was uncertain, the dangers unknown. But together, they would face it.

As they turned toward the village to make their preparations, Amara felt a spark of hope—small, fragile, but real. The curse was growing, its reach extending beyond the boundaries of the Veil. But she wasn’t facing it alone. And as long as they stood together, she believed they had a chance.