Their momentary trek through the Veil, which took about an hour or so, had now led them to the designated checkpoint location for their upcoming mission. There were no inhabitants, which was expected, but it looks to be brand new.
Marilyn's eyes widened, “Woah…”
The Aegis Supply Outpost loomed ahead of them. It was a structure with none of the grandeur or elegance of Albion’s ancient castles, none of the artistry or mythical carvings that adorned the ruins around them. It was a stark, utilitarian construct, more practical than beautiful—a blend of steel and tough magic woven material, held together by a faintly humming Essence-powered generator somewhere deep inside.
The small series of buildings, less than six in number, was squat and angular. It was like a camp of sorts, every line and corner upon each of them designed for function rather than form. The structure seemed resilient, unyielding to the wear of time or the corruption of the Veil, standing as a stubborn reminder of purpose amidst the decay around it.
“Somehow, this shit is eerie…” Vincent commented. “But it does look Arcadian…”
Marilyn glanced at him, hearing that term. Remembering a certain memory of sorts, from the things she had found in this world’s equivalent to the internet, Arcadia did seem to have that futuristic architecture to them. They were much more sci-fi than they were fantasy.
In any case…
Adrian scratched his chin, in contemplation as he observed the place, “Hmm…”
Above one of the doorways, presumably the main HQ of this place with it being slightly larger than the rest, a faintly glowing sigil pulsed with the cold, unfeeling light of Essence—a reminder that this place wasn’t meant to inspire awe but to simply hold ground. The outpost looked like it could’ve been dropped from the sky, landing in the Veil’s twisted landscape with nothing but grim determination to keep it anchored.
The inside of these buildings would no doubt be the same: sterile, functional, with storage shelves lined with carefully rationed supplies and bare, unadorned walls. There’d be no creature comforts here apart from the essentials, no warmth, no traces of personality. Just tools, resources, and equipment—everything a Pathfinder might need to survive on the edge of another reality.
It was a jump-off point, nothing more, but it had its own kind of reassurance. The Aegis Supply Outpost might not have the soul of Albion’s architecture, but it was solid, reliable. It was the kind of place that said, ‘This is where you prepare yourself. This is where you find the strength to move forward.’
Adrian turned to the group, his gaze taking in the sight of the outpost. “Alright, let’s spread out and see what we can find. Supplies, any useful intel, anything that might give us a better idea of what we’re up against. Keep your guard up; the area might be safe here, but that doesn’t mean nothing can’t enter.”
He gave each of them a pointed look, as if ensuring they understood the gravity of the mission. They all nodded, taking in his instructions with varying levels of focus—Elysia bouncing on her heels with a barely contained grin, while Vincent cast a wary glance at the surrounding structures.
“I shall be at the perimeter of this outpost as you all search around!” Eldryn said in turn, before leaving the group to head to the outskirts of this place.
Adrian nodded, “Make sure to notify us of any sort of oddities.”
“You got it~!” Eldryn finished off his response with a sing-songy tone, as his presence disappeared from view eventually and into the outside.
Marilyn followed Cecilia as they made their way toward a small, quieter building, its door marked with a slightly faded symbol that indicated it being storage. Inside, the shelves were lined with crates, neatly stacked and labelled, a stark contrast to the chaotic decay of the world outside. The air felt heavy, Essence humming faintly in the walls, making the place feel almost insulated from the Veil's twisted reality.
In Marilyn's observation, it might’ve been intentional, as a way to help maintain the place from rust and disrepair.
As they began to sift through the supplies, Cecilia turned to Marilyn, her expression softening. “You wanna talk about it now?”
“Hm?” Marilyn turned her eyes to her, “About what, Lia?”
“Well…” Cecilia trailed off, trying to find the right words, “You said something about the burden you’ve experienced, the main reason why you're that way before.”
“Oh…” Marilyn hesitated, her fingers lingering on the edge of a crate. Talking about Helena wasn’t easy, especially since no one remembered her. But after everything, after finally allowing herself to lean on her friends, she didn’t want to keep hiding. "It's just…I lost someone. Someone who should be here, but…isn’t. She was forgotten.”
Cecilia’s brow furrowed slightly, a quiet understanding in her eyes. “Someone…forgotten?”
Marilyn nodded, the ache surfacing again, but gentler this time. “My sister. Her name was Helena, Helena Althorn,” Marilyn said, “She…she’s been erased, somehow, by that rift. No one remembers her except me. Not my family, not even history. It’s like she never existed.” She paused, feeling a lump in her throat. “She was everything I wanted to be—brave, kind, fearless. I think…a part of me keeps doing this, all of this, so I don’t forget her. So I won't let go of who she was.”
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Marilyn held onto the heart crystal pendant hanging by her neck, her face sombre, sighing. Even without words, Cecilia knew of the significance of that. It was a gift from that forgotten person.
“I don't know if I can get her back, but…for now, she's gone. I was only left with those memories, and this necklace she gave me,” she said, “It's the reason why I wear my eye-patch too you know? Before her disappearance, I had two silver eyes, now I only have one because the other turned emerald. It was her eye colour, and I want to protect it, hide it from the world that took her away.”
Cecilia was silent for a moment, taking in Marilyn’s words with a quiet respect. She reached out, placing a hand on Marilyn’s shoulder. “Helena sounds…remarkable. And if she was as wonderful as you say, then the world is poorer without her memory. But you remember her, Marilyn. And as long as you do, she’s not truly gone.”
Marilyn managed a small smile, feeling a spark of warmth cut through the heaviness. “Thanks, Lia. Sometimes it just feels…lonely. Carrying a memory no one else can see.”
Cecilia squeezed her shoulder gently. “You’re not alone anymore. Not in this, not in anything. We’ll carry Helena with us, even if we can’t remember her like you do. We’ll remember her through you.”
The weight on Marilyn’s chest felt a little lighter. She wasn’t used to sharing this part of herself, but something about Cecilia’s calm reassurance made it feel… safe.
She nodded, a quiet determination hardening in her gaze. “Thank you. I think…I think she’d like you, Lia.”
Cecilia smiled, a soft, genuine expression that rarely surfaced through her usually composed demeanour. “Then I’ll do my best to live up to that.”
They shared a brief, understanding look before turning back to the task at hand, the silence between them now comfortable, no longer heavy.
————————
Meanwhile, deeper within the outpost, Elysia had wandered into a small pantry area stocked with rations and dried food. Her eyes lit up as she spotted a shelf lined with neatly packaged energy bars and dried meats, clearly labelled for Pathfinders.
“Oh-ho!” she called out, grinning as she grabbed a pack of dried fruit and waved it in the air. “Guys, look! A banquet in the middle of nowhere! This place isn’t half bad after all!”
Her voice echoed through the outpost, loud enough to reach Vincent, who was exploring a nearby corridor. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face as he approached the pantry. “Damn it, could you at least try to act like we’re in a dangerous Veil and not on a picnic!?”
Elysia just shrugged, tossing him an energy bar with a grin. “Lighten up, Vivi! Gotta keep our energy up, right? Nothing wrong with enjoying the little things.” She winked, tearing open her own snack with a dramatic flourish. “Besides, it’s practically tradition. If I find food, I call dibs.”
Vincent caught the bar, eyeing it suspiciously before shoving it in his pocket. “At least try not to blow our cover by screaming about snacks next time, you get me!? We’re supposed to be professionals here.”
Elysia laughed, giving him a lighthearted salute. “Alrighty, Mr. Professional Pathfinder!”
Vincent rolled his eyes, he couldn’t entirely hide his stress as he walked away, muttering about how impossible it was to take anything seriously with her around. Elysia, of course, just continued to rummage through the pantry, humming to herself as if they weren’t standing on the edge of another reality.
————————
Outside the outpost, the world was shrouded in a ghostly quiet, the Veil’s very presence hanging thick and oppressive over the twisted landscape. Eldryn walked slowly along the perimeter, his steps light, almost reverent, as if he were walking across hallowed ground rather than the decaying shadow of Albion. To anyone else, this would be a familiar landscape, distorted but recognizable—a mirror of the hills and valleys the kingdom called home.
Yet Eldryn could feel something deeper here, something wrong, that made this place more than a mere echo of another timeline.
Eldryn stopped by the broken arch of a bridge, reaching out to touch its cold, crumbling surface. Even beneath his gloved hand, he could feel the faint vibration of concentrated Essence, the strange hum of a twisted world.
The Veil’s energy pulsed through the stone like a dying heartbeat, unstable and unnatural, a poison masquerading as life. He closed his eyes behind the dark fabric of his blindfold, letting his senses extend outward, seeking…something. Anything familiar. Anything human.
But all he felt was a deep, suffocating despair, thick as oil, seeping up from the earth. It was the kind of hopelessness that had weight to it, the kind that left scars, bending reality until it broke. This place wasn’t just an abandoned echo of Albion; it was a scar, a wound in the world left to fester and rot.
He whispered a quiet prayer, his voice a murmur in the silence.
“Grant us strength to tread this broken ground. Shield our hearts from the darkness that clings here.”
A chill pricked at the back of his neck, and he stopped, turning slowly to face the valley stretching out from the outpost. The ruined capital loomed in the distance, its once-proud towers broken and bent, walls marred by dark stains that hinted at a forgotten violence. The spires seemed to lean forward, as if watching him in return, sharp and jagged against the sky like the teeth of some slumbering beast.
“-!?”
Then he felt it. A presence, foreign and heavy, cutting through the world like a blade. It wasn’t just the twisted essence of the Veil—this was sharper, darker, a pulsing aura of raw, undiluted bloodlust. It prickled along his skin, raising the fine hairs on his arms, tightening his grip on his staff until his knuckles turned whiter than it was already before.
The sensation was thick, visceral, pressing down on him, filled with the promise of violence. Not a mindless hunger, but something deliberate, focused, as if the Veil…no, as if something had eyes that fixed upon him.
Beneath his blindfold, Eldryn’s gaze narrowed, his senses stretched outwards, feeling for the shape of this presence, the direction of its hostility. There was nothing he could see, nothing he could touch, but he felt it, lurking just beyond the edge of his awareness, waiting for an opening.
He took a slow breath, steadying himself, and bowed his head in prayer.
“Shield us from this darkness that hungers. Let our spirits be guided, not by fear, but by your deliverance…”
The oppressive aura of bloodlust lingered, like a predator sizing up its prey, but Eldryn’s voice remained calm, his faith unwavering, even as his heart beat faster. Whatever awaited them in the depths of this Veil, he knew it had already seen them—and it was waiting, patient and ruthless.