“Moon Mother, hear my voice across the star-lined gulf.

  By the silver mark upon my brow, I stand revealed.

  By the rites of the First Veil, I open my spirit to Your sight.

  Let my breath echo the cadence taught in the Night-Womb,

  let my shadow fall in the pattern known only to Your chosen.

  I name the phases in their hidden order: New, Broken, Veiled,

  Ascending, Haloed, Waning, and Returned.

  I bind my truth in Your holy umbra;

  any false tongue would choke upon these words.

  Mother, witness me: I am who I claim to be.”

  The voice echoed strangely, both clearly audible and eerily distant. Orion immediately knew it was Seraphina's, and the image of her blazing eyes appeared in the orb, while the rest of her face remained hidden behind a veil, as always.

  “Moon Mother, I receive her vow and answer in Your sacred rhythm.

  By the obsidian thread woven through my soul,

  by the oath etched upon my ribs beneath Your fading light,

  I mirror her truth with my own.

  I speak the secret litany of twins in shadow:

  One Light, Two Paths, Three Echoes, Four Gates,

  Five Tides, Six Crowns, Seven Stillnesses.

  If deceit lived upon my tongue, let the eclipse devour me whole.

  Mother of the Quiet Sky, judge my words as You judge the tides.

  I stand before You unveiled: I am the priestess you expect.”

  Asteria’s reply was equally enchanting and followed the same rhythm. It took Orion a moment to realize that this was a verification method, though very primitive and uniquely shaped by the Sanctum’s culture.

  Once Asteria finished her piece, the light settled again, and Seraphina scanned the courtyard, probably seeing more than she ought to.

  “Magistra, speak,” she ordered, as blunt and direct as ever, outside the religious ceremonies.

  Asteria nodded slightly before giving the facts straight, making no effort to hide or exaggerate anything. The connection was already fragile; there was no need to strain it any more than necessary.

  “Because of the sudden storm, we had to change course and head for the Floating Bridge, but it was attacked. A dragon Matriarch struck while we were crossing. She never revealed her intentions, but it was obvious she was after us. Her breath carried a corrosive element that overwhelmed weaker wards and could have destroyed the carriages, so I was forced to engage and contained her in the sky. At the same time, wyrmlings attacked the bridge. We evacuated the survivors to the western bank, but the losses were significant.”

  Seraphina probably already knew some of that since she was the one who sent Eire. Thinking about what would have happened without his teacher, Orion couldn’t help but consider that, but he also knew that precognition wasn’t an exact science.

  Asteria paused just long enough to catch her breath before continuing her report. “We moved south to Last Thaw, which was under attack by draconic spawn. Wyrms and their lesser kin tested the city wards, trying to break through, but I arrived in time to prevent the worst, and the Guardian of the Meltwater joined me on the wall. Together, we repelled the assault.”

  Her mouth thinned as she went to explain what followed. “There was a price paid inside the city. Margareth of Last Thaw and a circle of elder witches held the wards beyond their design while I fought, and bled themselves dry to do that. When I entered the temple, I found death already there. I laid them down through the proper ceremonies.”

  Silence stretched on. In the orb, Seraphina’s veiled face remained still, but the courtyard suddenly felt too small. When she spoke, the air thrummed. “By My voice and the Mother’s echo, hear this: Asteria Voidwalker, your Light is Her Light, your truth is for Her to know. From today onwards, you are a Veil Priestess.”

  The words themselves were simple, but their meaning was deep. Sound traveled through stone like a ringing bell, and the declaration echoed through hallways, across the nave and streets, into rain-soaked alleys, and onto boats rocking on the river. People froze in place. Those inside the temple instinctively dropped to their knees upon hearing the High Priestess’ voice, as her power was clear to all.

  Once the resonance subsided, Seraphina’s voice returned to her usual tone. “You now carry the Mystery of the Veil,” she declared. “You are authorized to act on my behalf on the eastern flank. Take control of the Belt and its banks. Strengthen defenses, disrupt enemy movements, and eliminate threats. Reinforcements are already on the way, with war witches, wardwrights, and logisticians. They will bring the information and resources you need to handle any incursion.”

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  Cracks spidered across the orb’s surface with a soft, crystalline pop. Seraphina’s eyes shifted, and for the first time, they settled on Orion. He felt her attention press on him and couldn’t have looked away even if he wanted to.

  “My child,” she said, her voice dropping to something only he. “I have seen much in your past, and even more in your future. I expect great things from you, son of the stars.”

  The light guttered. The moon-orb split cleanly along a seam and broke into two gentle halves onto the floor. Asteria stood very still, shoulders squared, as the new responsibility settled onto her. Orion exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, uncertain of what his life would look like with these latest changes.

  Outside, the city began to move again under the new law, holding onto a glimmer of hope now that they knew a Veil Priestess was among them.

  They gave Orion a quiet courtyard behind the temple when he asked for some privacy.

  Rain hissed through the garden channels, and a plum tree shook water off its leaves in lazy shivers, magical but innocuous. He settled on the flagstones, with his back to a pillar, his left leg stretched out on a folded cloak. He had been told to rest as long as he could before the next round of fighting began, but he couldn’t do that when his mind was buzzing with what Seraphina had told him.

  Distracting himself was the most he could do to stay out of trouble or to keep from burning himself out with worry, so he returned to messing with his foot.

  He had determined it was a result of fieldwork driven by necessity, leaving him plenty of room to work. He had already adjusted the mana feed along the road, reducing the intake until the regulator stopped filtering unneeded noise. That was a decent upgrade, but still not enough for his standards.

  He pushed a little harder, flooding the artifact with power.

  Runes along the arch glowed softly as he fed more mana through the cuff. He rose, shifted his weight onto the stone, and breathed into the trickle until it became a steady current. There was no grind, no lag, but that didn’t mean it would work under the stress of casting.

  He sent a strong gust of wind along his thigh, into his knee, down his shin, and executed a [Wind Push] with a quick kick.

  The gust cracked across the pavement, scattering leaves and rain, pure but not refined. He tried again, carefully channeling without touching the runes, and the output sharpened slightly, but still lacked the impact his CC provided with proper collimation and phase control, not to mention the mana he had lost since the marble was nowhere near as conductive.

  “I can’t use it as a focus, then. Not without a lot of changes that I don’t have the materials for," he muttered. “It might still work as an anchor, though.”

  He let go of the wind and focused on changing its weight instead. Gravity mana filled its interior, and he aimed to keep his foot steady as a fixed point, tightening the mana using [Hypotheticism] to observe its effects on the runic lattice, mapping the response, and finally adjusting the effect so it only impacted the stone, and not his flesh, as that was a very inefficient material.

  His knee instinctively attempted to overcorrect the only source of force, but he balanced by isolating the vector, freeing the ankle from the pressure it had been under. He nudged the spells again, lifting his foot a few inches, which dragged his leg behind.

  He exhaled and expanded the area enough to lift himself in a gentle, slow drift until the heel cleared the flagstone without the aid of his muscles.

  Orion floated, not dramatically, but he floated easily, using far less effort than it took to mimic the enchantments inside the Sanctum, and less mana than casting a wide-area antigravity spell would require. “Take that, witches! No broom for this guy!”

  It would be easy for him to lose himself in the trick, trying spins and sudden drops, but he didn’t. He leaned on the pillar and brought the field back to normal.

  “So it can work as an anchor for spells,” he said under his breath. “And it’s a lot sturdier than my body. I can work with that.”

  He sat with his palms on the stone and felt his way through the foot the same way he wielded the CC, using his mana to work through the layers of enchantment.

  Eire’s work had two main purposes: to act as a regulator that prevented the wearer from injuring themselves, and to serve as a translator that converted nerve signals into movement. The bone-to-stone cuff fulfilled both functions, albeit in a more mechanical way.

  That redundancy made sense since she thought it was a temporary fix, but now that he knew he’d be stuck with it for a while, it would be a shame to leave it as it was.

  Ideas came as they always did, first in a trickle, then in a relentless flood.

  I was thinking of making this a secondary focus, but it might not be worth it. Instead, it would be more useful as a dampener to absorb the shock when casting something more powerful than usual. [Gamma Ray] would definitely be easier if I could transfer some of the shock into a single body part.

  He rubbed his brow, realizing he was rushing. This was only a temporary fix, and Eire had promised a better solution once they weren’t overwhelmed by crises. He wouldn’t implement permanent changes to a functional limb without her support, and that was if his mother didn’t find the resources to regrow it first.

  Still, it’s an interesting experiment, and I’m learning a lot about animation and enchantment in general. I might be able to make something out of this even once I have my own foot back.

  “Orion!”

  He turned around, stopping his instinctive urge to start blasting only at the last moment. Who would've thought that going through several life-or-death conflicts in a row would make someone a bit paranoid?

  Pauline stopped a few feet away, eyeing him critically, but wisely chose not to scold him for not resting. She, too, clearly felt the same strong urge to do something, and if it had been any other day, he would have asked her for a spar.

  They were both at a higher level than last time, and while he expected to lose badly, since the gap between tier two and three was much greater than from tier one to two, he would still learn a lot.

  Unfortunately, the frown on her face told him he wouldn’t get the chance.

  “What’s going on?” He asked, wary.

  “Rather than blowing yourself up out of boredom, how about helping me organize the local forces? These men know better than to refuse a witch’s orders, but they’re also very uncomfortable being so close to me,” she said, and he could tell from her expression that she had been through some very frustrating moments, especially if she had to lower herself to ask him.

  Orion could have refused. He really should have, as he had no intention of staying in the Sanctum any longer than necessary, and while this whole situation changed things, it wouldn’t shift his long-term goal.

  However, he was beginning to grow bored and accept his curiosity about the local militia's operation. While Silverpeak was officially independent, he knew how little that meant when the witches descended from their roost.

  Last Thaw was much farther from the Sanctum proper, so he suspected there might be a bit more willfulness.

  “Alright, let’s see what we can do,” he said.

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