All Chapters of A Veil of Ash and Glass: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

West Hall smelled like old money trying to pretend it wasn’t haunted.The corridor swallowed sound. Dark wainscoting, stone beneath, portraits of dead benefactors whose eyes had that same faint sheen of judgment she’d seen on Manila judges and senators. Here, the wealth wasn’t new and anxious; it was ancient and bored.Umbra moved beside her with a soundless, steady stride, each shift of muscle fluid under his dark coat. He stayed close enough that his shoulder brushed her thigh on every third step. His head was up, nostrils flaring, reading the place the way she read people.“Old teeth,” she whispered in Tagalog. “Luma na, pero matalim pa rin.” It’s old, but still sharp.Noah walked ahead of them with the unthinking precision of someone who had grown up in halls like this. His blazer fit like it had been tailored straight onto his body: clean lines, expensive cloth, that unforgiving white shirt against sun-gold skin and pale hair. From the side, he looked carved, not born.Luca kept p

By the time Friday crept in, St. Valen’s had already learned her name.Not properly. Not the way that mattered. But in the way that traveled fastest in places like this: through whispers and warped retelling.The new girl from Manila.The Sombra heiress.The one with the Rottweiler.The one who told Luca Ashford “no” and smiled while she did it.Althea heard versions of herself she didn’t recognize drifting behind her in corridors.Temper, they said.Wild.Dangerous.One girl in the bathroom had whispered, “Her family’s old old money, you know, like pre-colonial land,” as if that explained why her shadow walked on four legs and watched everyone like a second pair of eyes.She let it roll off. Gossip was just the weather. Let them predict storms.They had no idea what a real one looked like.Classes helped—a little. Political theory. Ethics. Economics.She played the obedient student, taking neat notes, asking precise questions, and resisting the urge to correct professors when they ski

The gala was a week away. For St. Valen’s, it was a tradition. For Althea, it was a countdown.Noah’s collision with her in the corridor—the way he had jerked back like he had touched fire—had been a correction. A punishment. A reminder that what had almost happened between them wasn’t warmth; it was a lapse he regretted. His horror had not been about her; it had been about being seen. And Luca’s quiet dagger of a comment kept echoing: “He’ll always choose the mask.”Humiliation burned in her chest, sharp and bitter. Then came her family’s email, and the blade twisted deeper.The week blurred into a hollow, tightening panic.Her magic—the seismic, wild thing that lived under her ribs—had gone quiet.Not calm.Not sleeping.Just… watching.Waiting.She tried to train her mind instead, the way her lola had demanded: sit, breathe, control.She sat cross-legged on the floor, Umbra’s head heavy on her lap, a single unlit candle placed before her. The room was dim. Cold. Too still. She breat

The pop was small. But it was the kind of sound ancient families had learned never to ignore—a single crack, sharp and pure, slicing through violins and laughter and centuries of etiquette.Althea’s champagne glass shattered in her hand. Shards flashed like tiny stars across the polished marble floor. A sliver of crystal bit deep into her palm, blood blooming instantly - bright, indecent red against flawless event lighting.The room fell silent.Magic slammed up her spine, vicious and uncoiled, a pressure wave that made the world tilt. Pain seared behind her eyes. The scent of burnt sugar - her tell - coated the air like something molten.Althea staggered.Umbra wasn’t there. They’d forced her to attend without him. She was alone inside a storm she couldn’t leash.Across the ballroom -Noah moved. Georgina barely managed a startled “Noah?” as he tore his arm out of her grasp. He pushed through the crowd before anyone else reacted.“Althea!”But her family moved faster.Hiraya reached h

The walk from the gallery to the courtyard was too bright, too exposed, and too quiet.Ricardo’s hand stayed at the small of Althea’s back—a steady pressure that wasn’t force but command. The jacket he wrapped around her was heavy across her shoulders, its warmth a barrier between her skin and the air that had seen too much.Hiraya and Odesa flanked them like shadows that had learned to take human shape. No one spoke. No one dared step into their path. Students parted at the edges of the hall, uncertain whether they were witnessing a rescue or the prologue to war.The night outside was cold, the courtyard lit by soft lanterns and the distant sound of violins that still played, oblivious.The black car waited with its engine humming. Ricardo guided her in and closed the door behind them. The lock clicked with the finality of a sealed vault. The car pulled away before anyone had a chance to breathe.A long minute passed.Then Ricardo said, quietly, “Look at me.”She did.His expression w