The mist clung to the stones of the Citadel like a second skin, heavy and unyielding. It was a living thing, some said, a breath exhaled by the earth itself to shield the secrets buried within. Lira had known no other home. The Shrouded Citadel was her world, its labyrinthine halls her only path, and the whispers of the dead her constant companions.

She stood at the edge of the Inner Sanctum, her bare feet cold against the ancient flagstones. The air here was thick with the scent of incense and something darker, something metallic and sharp. The Sanctum was forbidden to all but the highest-ranking Shadowbinders, and yet Lira had been summoned. Her heart pounded as she stepped forward, the hem of her gray robe brushing the ground. The High Priestess awaited her.

"Child of the Veil," the High Priestess intoned, her voice echoing in the vast chamber. "You have been chosen."

Lira bowed her head, her dark hair falling like a curtain over her face. She had known this day would come. Every apprentice was tested, their worth measured against the weight of the Citadel's secrets. But knowing did little to ease the knot of fear in her chest.

"You are to guard the Threshold," the High Priestess continued. "The balance must be maintained. The dead must not cross into the world of the living, nor the living into the realm of the dead. Do you understand?"

Lira nodded, though the words felt heavy on her tongue. "I understand."

The High Priestess studied her for a long moment, her eyes like shards of obsidian. "Do you? The Threshold is not merely a gate. It is a promise, a covenant. To fail is to doom us all."

Lira swallowed hard. "I will not fail."

The High Priestess gestured toward the far wall, where a narrow archway stood, its edges carved with runes that seemed to shift and writhe in the dim light. "Go. The Threshold awaits."

Lira stepped through the archway and into the darkness beyond. The air grew colder, the mist thicker. She could feel the weight of the Citadel pressing down on her, the stones humming with a low, resonant energy. The Threshold was not a place one could see or touch, but rather a presence, a force that pulsed at the edge of her awareness.

She knelt on the cold floor, her hands resting on her knees, and closed her eyes. The ritual words came to her lips unbidden, a chant passed down through generations of Shadowbinders. As she spoke, the air around her seemed to still, the mist drawing back to reveal a faint, silvery light. It was the light of the Threshold, the boundary between worlds.

For hours, she sat in silence, her mind attuned to the ebb and flow of the Threshold's energy. It was a delicate balance, a dance of shadows and light. But as the night deepened, something shifted. A ripple passed through the Threshold, a disturbance that sent a shiver down Lira's spine.

Her eyes snapped open. The light had dimmed, the shadows thickening into something almost solid. She rose to her feet, her heart racing. This was not normal. This was not right.

"Who's there?" she called, her voice trembling.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows, tall and cloaked in dark robes. His face was obscured, but his presence was unmistakable. He was not one of the Shadowbinders. He was an outsider.

Lira's breath caught in her throat. No one entered the Citadel uninvited. No one crossed the Threshold without permission. And yet, here he stood, his very presence a violation of the sacred balance.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice stronger now. "How did you get here?"

The figure stepped closer, and for the first time, she saw his eyes—piercing and bright, like shards of amber. "I am Kael," he said, his voice low and steady. "And I need your help."