CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The seven days before the mission were the hardest of Olivia's life.
Physically, she trained until her body rebelled—spear forms, hand-to-hand combat, tactical drills, endurance runs with her cracked ribs still healing. Aisha threatened to tie her to a cot if she didn't rest. Olivia compromised by sleeping four hours instead of two.
Emotionally, she was a wreck. Lucas grew more distant as the ritual's effects lingered—sleeping poorly, staring at walls, sometimes speaking in a voice that didn't sound entirely like his own.
She stayed with him every night, holding his hand, talking until he fell asleep.
She told him stories about Valeria Vance—her favourite scenes, her best lines, her most impossible victories.
"Tell me the donut scene again," Lucas whispered one night, his head in her lap.
"Valeria had just thrown a mercenary through a window. She sat on the ledge, eating a jelly donut, while backup arrived. The commander asked if she was okay. She said, 'I'm always okay. I have carbs and confidence.'"
Lucas smiled, eyes closed. "I want to meet her."
"She's fictional."
"Then you be her. Be the hero you always wanted to be." He opened his eyes, green and serious. "Promise me, Olivia. No matter what happens in that realm, no matter what happens to me—you keep fighting. You keep becoming."
"Nothing's going to happen to you."
"Promise me anyway."
"I promise."
She kissed his forehead, and they sat in silence until dawn.
Politically, the compound was boiling. The Covens established a permanent presence, their purple-robed figures appearing in corners, watching, listening.
Vesper found Olivia twice more, sharing cryptic warnings about "the Pale Legion" and "the Sovereign's return.
" Olivia filed the information away, adding it to her growing collection of things that didn't make sense.
Cass became an unlikely ally, training with Olivia in the early mornings before anyone else woke. They didn't talk much, but they sparred hard, and Olivia learned more from those silent sessions than from any formal lesson.
"You're faster now," Cass noted on day five, after Olivia landed three consecutive touches.
"I'm angrier."
"Anger is fuel. Just don't let it control you." Cass lowered her sword. "My brother was angry too. At the world, at himself, at the power that was killing him. In the end, the anger burned him up."
"What should I do instead?"
"Find something worth protecting. Something that matters more than your rage." Cass looked toward the armoury, where Lucas trained with Sable. "I think you already have."
On day six, Olivia received two unexpected gifts.
The first was from Gloria: a hand-stitched combat harness, reinforced with leather and small steel plates, designed specifically for Olivia's proportions. "My grandmother was a seamstress," Gloria explained. "I picked up a few things. It won't stop a sword, but it'll turn a claw."
Olivia hugged her hard enough to make Gloria wheeze.
The second gift was from Sable: a spear.
Not a standard-issue Vanguard weapon. This was something else—ancient, beautiful, with a shaft of dark wood that felt warm to the touch and a blade of folded steel etched with symbols that matched those on the Key of Echoes.
"It was my mother's," Sable said quietly. "She was a warrior before she was a commander. Before the Vanguard consumed her. I want you to carry it."
"Commander, I can't—this is too much—"
"You can. You will." Sable's blue eyes were fierce. "That spear has killed creatures from beyond the Veil. It has protected villages, saved lives, survived things that should have destroyed it. It deserves a wielder who understands that strength isn't about size."
Olivia took the spear. It felt alive in her hands, humming with potential.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Don't thank me. Survive. Come back. And then we'll see about making you a commander of your own."
That night, Olivia sat alone in the storage shed where she'd first trained in secret. She held Sable's spear, wore Gloria's harness, and thought about how far she'd come—from a girl in a gym, mocked and underestimated, to a warrior preparing to step through a hole in reality.
"Valeria Vance never had to deal with interdimensional travel," she told the darkness. "But she would've figured it out. She always figured it out."
She thought of her father, who'd believed in her when no one else had. Of Jenna, who'd survived with Mr. Whiskers and was now teaching children in the civilian barracks. Of Gloria, and Dee, and Marcus, and all the unlikely family she'd found in the ruins.
"I'm coming back," she promised them all. "I'm going to seal that Veil, protect the people I love, and then I'm going to eat the biggest pizza this compound can produce."
She slept in the shed that night, curled around her spear, dreaming of doors opening and closing, of battles won and lost, of a small warrior who refused to be small anymore.
Tomorrow, they stepped through the Key.
Tomorrow, everything changed.