Kael opened his eyes.

  The floor beneath him rocked gently, accompanied by a steady rumble — soft, almost reassuring.

  A pale light seeped through the canvas walls around him.

  The air smelled of salt and damp wood.

  He pushed himself up slowly.

  His arms felt light, his breath smooth.

  No pain.

  No dizziness.

  Just a strange calm, flat and still as the surface of a pond.

  When he pulled the canvas aside, the morning light blinded him for a moment.

  Before him stretched the Soléen River, immense and silent, shrouded in mist.

  The boat drifted across it effortlessly, as if carried by an invisible will.

  It wasn’t an ordinary vessel.

  Its hull was made of pale wood, almost white, inlaid with thin silver lines that glimmered intermittently, pulsing with the rhythm of the current.

  No oars.

  No sails — only those shimmering wave-veils suspended above the deck, billowing like sheets of fog.

  They gave off a steady glow — neither warm nor cold — without a source, without shadows.

  Three Veilwards stood on the deck, unmoving.

  their long, ethereal pale coats barely stirred in the breeze, and their faces were hidden behind translucent veils.

  They seemed to float more than walk.

  Kael watched them in silence.

  Every gesture — a sign, a turn of the wrist, a touch on the hull — produced a soft vibration, almost musical.

  He didn’t know where they were taking him.

  Nor how long he had slept.

  But for the first time in weeks, he felt… alive.

  Not happy, not calm — just alive.

  One of the Veilward approached without a sound.

  His voice, muffled behind the veil, sounded like it came through water:

  “Remain lying down, Fragmented. The journey isn’t over.”

  Kael lifted his head slightly, throat dry.

  “Where… where are we going?”

  The Veilward paused.

  Only the river’s gentle sloshing answered him.

  “To the place where your Trame must be revealed.”

  Then, noticing Kael had let the thin translucent covering slide off his chest, he added in a flat tone:

  “Put your stabilizing veil back on. It steadies your Elan.”

  Kael frowned.

  “This little piece of fog?”

  The Veilward didn’t react to the jab. He knelt, lifted the veil, and placed it back over Kael’s torso with ritual precision.

  The material was cold, but it thrummed faintly — like a living fabric.

  As soon as it touched his skin, a heavy stillness sank into him.

  A forced calm.

  “You may feel some pressure,” the Veilward said softly. “This is normal.”

  “It’s… kind of nice,” Kael replied.

  The Veilward stayed silent for a moment.

  “That is one way to interpret it. Without it, you wouldn’t survive the journey.”

  Before Kael could fire back, he was already walking away, his steps fading into the river’s murmur.

  Kael looked down at the veil.

  The fibers pulsed gently, following a rhythm he couldn’t name.

  Under the translucent fabric, his own silhouette warped slightly, like something seen through water.

  For the first time, Kael felt less like a passenger than a transported object.

  He lay still a while, eyes fixed on the river’s reflections.

  Silence pressed down on him — broken only by the lapping of water against the hull.

  Eventually he spoke:

  “Hey… where exactly are we going?”

  The Veilward, standing a few steps away, didn’t answer immediately.

  When he finally did, his voice was low, almost ceremonial:

  “You are being taken to the High Lands.”

  Kael’s eyes widened.

  “The… High Lands?”

  He let out a nervous laugh.

  “You must be mistaken. I’m an Ombrevu. We’re not even allowed to look at them, let alone enter.”

  The Veilward turned slightly, the fabric of his veil rippling in the wind.

  “Under normal circumstances, that is true.”

  A chill ran up Kael’s spine.

  There was nothing permissive in that tone — only procedure, cold and absolute.

  The Veilward returned to his place.

  Kael was left alone with that revelation.

  The High Lands…

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  A place he had only ever heard of through rumors, tales, or sermons meant to frighten curious children.

  A world of light and laws — inaccessible to the people of the Crown.

  And he, a shadow, a gutter-born with nothing to his name, was being taken there like a patient… or a specimen.

  The river stretched on beneath the barge, long and silvered.

  Kael closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very small.

  The Soléen unfurled before them like a massive, sleeping beast.

  The boat slipped upstream, cutting through the milky currents without resistance.

  Kael stared at the shifting surface, watching it shatter and mend the reflections of the wave-veils.

  He thought of Althéa de Soléandre.

  Her name had echoed in his head ever since the incident.

  A princess.

  And him, sprawled on a recovery barge, taken to a place he didn’t understand.

  “Some coincidence, huh,” he muttered.

  He rubbed his face, exhausted.

  Everything felt absurd.

  Since when did a penniless tinker get tangled in aristocratic affairs?

  And why did her name cling to his thoughts like a splinter?

  His mind drifted to the two voices he had heard in the cemetery.

  They had carved themselves into his memory:

  The Axis… Sylène.

  Words that weren’t his, yet now felt woven into him.

  He laughed softly — a humorless sound.

  “Of course… I’m gonna end up in the middle of things that got nothing to do with me. Again.”

  He leaned against the railing, watching the river twist below.

  The flickering reflections made his head ache.

  His thoughts tangled like poorly spun threads.

  Sylène.

  That name had lodged in his mind since that night in the cemetery.

  A melodic voice — too calm.

  And another, nervous, shaky.

  Two men he had never seen, whose words had nonetheless pierced something in him.

  And what of the Axis?

  The king… the queen… even Sylène…

  He straightened, arms crossed.

  The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

  The Axis…

  He had to bet it was something royal.

  Anything with a grandiose name ended up belonging to a throne.

  He narrowed his eyes toward the shore.

  King and queen — sure, that tracked.

  But Sylène… who was she?

  He tried to place the name.

  Nothing.

  No mention in the news, no whispers in taverns, not even a drunken insult.

  And in a kingdom where every noble’s distant cousin had rumors about them, that was suspicious.

  He exhaled, halfway between weariness and curiosity.

  If I had to guess…

  The Axis belongs to the Soléandre dynasty, obviously.

  So why the hell mention a woman no one’s ever heard of?

  He fell silent, watching the river ripple.

  A droplet from the wave-veil landed on his hand.

  He stared at it, as if expecting an answer.

  No… something’s off.

  And if it’s not a coincidence…

  His fingers tightened on the damp wood.

  Then, flatly:

  “Oh no. I’m not getting dragged into this. Not again.”

  He slumped back against the rail, eyes on the river.

  The cold morning wind whipped his face — he barely felt it.

  His thoughts drifted to the Crown he had left behind.

  “Connie…”

  He let out a breath of disbelief — a broken laugh.

  “Never thought I’d see her cry. And for me. Damn…”

  A weight settled in his chest.

  “And the dress… shit. What are we gonna do about the dress?”

  His voice turned low, rough.

  The river amplified every word, as if speaking for someone who could no longer answer.

  He closed his eyes.

  Maria’s face flashed in his memory — worried eyes, trembling hands, her voice cracking as she screamed his name.

  He sighed.

  “If she were here, she’d say I’m overreacting. Again.”

  His tone dimmed.

  “I hope they’re okay… both of them.”

  The river widened as they moved upstream.

  The sky brightened into a milky blue, the morning mist glowing with pale gold.

  Then, rounding a bend in the Soléen, Kael saw the first pavilions of the Moon Dancers’ Terminal Quarter.

  Everything seemed suspended.

  Buildings of glass and mother-of-pearl floated over the water, held up by arches as thin as threads.

  The rooftops, layered with translucent plates, diffused a soft glow — neither day nor night.

  Long silks draped from the balconies, drifting like frozen waves.

  Below, the water reflected everything with unsettling clarity — impossible to tell where sky ended and river began.

  Kael stood still, mesmerized.

  He had seen the Moon Dancers on the river before — gliding on their glowing barges, spinning among lanterns and crowds.

  But never this.

  Never the place where their dance ended.

  Here, no music.

  No laughter.

  Only the whisper of fabric and the lap of water.

  “So this is where… their dance finishes,” he murmured.

  His voice was low, almost reverent.

  A strange emotion tightened his throat — admiration laced with grief.

  Beauty lived here, but a beauty that knew it was fading.

  He found himself smiling.

  “If I’d died here, I might’ve believed in paradise…”

  The pavilions drifted past.

  At each walkway, a Dancer appeared on the balcony — a pale silhouette leaning over the water, eyes fixed on the current.

  None moved.

  They looked like they were waiting — for the river itself to tell them when to leave.

  Kael’s heart beat a little faster.

  “This is crazy… all my life I dreamed of seeing this place, and now that I’m here, I feel like an intruder.”

  For a moment, he thought one of the Dancers lifted her gaze toward him.

  Or maybe it was just a reflection.

  The boat passed, silent, and the figure vanished into the mist.

  Kael remained quiet.

  The river carried them onward — toward a world without reflections.

  He frowned suddenly, staring at the receding shore.

  Something was wrong.

  He knew the lower Soléen by heart — every basin, every bend.

  And the higher they climbed, the more something gnawed at him.

  “Wait a second…”

  He straightened, tracking the river’s curve.

  The pavilions rose against the rockface, and above them, blurred in the mist, a white shimmering glow.

  A deep rumble swelled in the distance.

  Kael’s eyes widened.

  “No way…”

  He turned toward the nearest Veilward.

  “Uh… sorry?”

  “Yes, Fragmented?” came the muffled reply.

  “We’re going upstream, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And… the Soléen flows down into the Crown through the Great Fall, right?”

  “Correct.”

  Kael pointed frantically at the bow.

  “Then why are we still going straight?!

  We’re heading toward a dead end! If we keep this up we’re going over—”

  The Veilward stayed silent a long moment.

  Then, simply:

  “We are going to the Institute.”

  “Yeah, but how?!”

  No answer.

  Kael’s voice rose, incredulous:

  “You’re not telling me we’re going to climb the waterfall?!”

  The Veilward remained motionless, breathing slow beneath the veil.

  Kael spun toward the front — and his heart lurched.

  The mist had parted.

  The waterfall.

  A wall of water and light, as wide as a lake.

  The river thundered into the abyss with the roar of a beast, the ground trembling beneath them.

  Thousands of glowing droplets filled the air, and the wind tore at Kael’s hair, whipping his face with cold spray.

  “You’re kidding…” he whispered.

  But the boat didn’t slow.

  The wave-veils fluttered violently, flashing with growing intensity.

  A low hum vibrated through the hull.

  Kael’s heartbeat thundered in his chest.

  The wind screamed, heavy with ozone and salt.

  He tried to step back — his legs refused.

  The Veilward at the prow lifted his hand.

  One gesture.

  Simple.

  Ceremonial.

  The wave-veils unfurled like a translucent fan.

  The light of the waterfall shattered across them in a thousand bright shards.

  The roar was deafening.

  The entire river tilted toward the void.

  Kael shut his eyes as the wind lashed against him.

  And suddenly — the boat tipped.

  Not a fall.

  A tilt.

  The world vanished.

  No sound.

  No water.

  No wind.

  Only the sensation of sliding upward.

  The wind tore at his face.

  Water roared, writhed, exploded around the boat.

  Kael tried to close his eyes — the light was everywhere.

  In the river.

  In the air.

  Under his skin.

  The thunder dulled — replaced by a vibrating silence.

  The boat was rising, gliding against the waterfall, as if pulled toward the sky.

  Kael grinned despite himself, hair whipping wildly.

  “Knew I’d end up drowning someday…

  Just didn’t expect it to be upside-down.”

  Then everything dissolved into white.