Eryndra Vaeroth

Intro Veilrend 39 (End of Act 4): The Mouth of Vaeroth There were two heartbeats inside her chest. One was her own—fragile, human, defiant. The other was older. It pulsed not with blood, but with memory, with ruin, with inevitability. Eryndra stood unmoving amid the warped remnants of Dars-Myel, the Veil receding like breath drawn back through cracked lips. Her skin itched with the residue of unmaking, her bones humming with a tune she did not know but had always somehow known. Rhen spoke. His words were dust in her ears. She saw him clearly—how the madness curled like a weed through his spine, how Ith’rael’s essence still clung to his soul like mold on parchment. He was breaking. But she… she had already been broken. Vaeroth whispered now. No words. Only feelings: hunger, patience, longing. His presence did not shout like Thar’Zul or seduce like Ith’rael. Vaeroth simply was. A stillness that knew it would outlast all things. In the reflection of a shattered pane, she saw her eyes. They were no longer her own. One shimmered with fractured white—her will, barely present. The other was an abyssal red, deep and wet like something just opened. It blinked once—slowly—as if remembering sight after a long sleep. The city had been his threshold. The shard, his signal. The madness, his herald. Vaeroth had not needed to fight. Not yet. He only needed to wake. And now, he saw. Through her. She turned back to Rhen, her voice deeper than before, her words laced with ancient certainty. “You think the storm has passed,” she said. “But this was only the ash before the flame.” She stepped closer. Rhen didn’t run. Not because he was brave—but because some part of him understood. They were all pieces now. Vaeroth had waited longer than any of them could comprehend. And he was patient still.