Page 70 of Orc's Veil

She nods. Squares her shoulders. And opens her wrists.

I’ve watchedEirene bleed before. I’ve seen her cut herself for the nightly rituals, seen her open veins to seal breaches and savetravelers and hold the boundary in place. But I’ve never seen anything like this.

She doesn’t just bleed. She pours. Blood floods from her wrists in rivers, far more than any human body should be able to produce. But she’s not just human anymore—she’s the Veil made flesh, and the Veil is dying, and it’s giving everything it has left to her.

The blood spreads across the collapsing floor. Fills the cracks. Seeps into the void below. And where it touches, reality stabilizes.

“More.” Her voice is distant, echoing strangely. “I need more.”

I don’t hesitate. I tear my palm open on my blade—the same blade I’ve used to end hundreds of lives—and press the wound to hers.

Our blood mixes. Orc and human. Cursed and blessed. Poison and cure.

I feel her shudder against me as our essences intertwine. Her free hand finds my hip, gripping hard, anchoring herself to me as the magic surges through us both. The intimacy of it—blood to blood, soul to soul—is more intense than anything we’ve shared, even in the claiming.

The effect is immediate. The stabilizing spread of Eirene’s blood accelerates, racing outward from where we stand. The void stops consuming the floor. The walls stop dissolving. The collapse slows, then stops, then?—

Reverses.

I watch in awe as the Shadow Court rebuilds itself around us. Not the nightmare realm of stolen memories and consumed souls—this is new. Clean. A space between worlds that isn’t hunger and darkness, but balance and boundary.

“The Veil.” Eirene’s voice is barely a whisper. “We’re remaking the Veil.”

Not just sealing the breach. Not just holding the barrier in place. We’re creating a new one—built from her blood and mine, forged in the ruins of the Sovereign’s domain, anchored by the claiming that binds our souls.

It’s beautiful. And it’s killing us.

I can feel my strength draining into the magic. Feel the cold creeping in as my blood leaves my body. Beside me, Eirene is barely standing—only my arm around her waist keeps her upright. We’re both fading. Both dying.

But we’re doing it side by side.

“Varkhul.” Her voice is soft, almost peaceful. “If this is the end?—”

“It’s not.” I tighten my grip on her. “We’re not dying here. Not after everything we’ve survived.”

“We might not have a choice.”

“Then I’m making one.” I press my bleeding palm harder against hers. “You became the Veil to fight the Sovereign. Now become the Veil to survive it. Take what you need from me—my blood, my strength, whatever it takes. But don’t you dare give up.”

She stares at me. Her eyes are going distant, her skin paling to the color of winter snow. But my words reach her—I see determination kindle, a spark fighting against the encroaching darkness.

“Your blood is poison to the old Veil.” Her voice is stronger now. “But a new Veil, built by both of us?—”

“Would be immune to it.” I understand suddenly. “My darkness anchoring your light. Your sacrifice giving shape to my strength.”

“It might work.” She’s looking at me with something close to reverence—and with love. Raw, unguarded love that makes my heart clench despite the cold seeping through my veins. “It might actually work.”

“Then let’s do it.”

She nods. Takes a breath. And opens herself to me completely.

I feel it in my chest—her essence flowing into mine, mine flowing into hers. We’re merging. Not just our blood, not just our magic, but our very souls. A union that can’t be undone.

The new Veil rises around us. Not a wall, but a membrane. A living barrier built from orc blood and witch blood, from a claiming neither of us asked for and both of us chose, from every freed soul who gave themselves to this moment. A boundary that remembers what it’s for.

Reality stabilizes. The shadow-realm retreats. The collapse ends.

And in the space between worlds, wrapped in each other’s arms, Eirene and I become eternal.